«.  ..--._• -I -,  i  u_    i  sssaa=sg===v~>Lip 


TEN  CENT  NOVELETTES. 


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« 


—OK.— 


1*1111  niy© 


A  STORY  OF  THE  MEXICAN  WAR. 


BY  NED  BUNTLINE. 


BOSTON: 

ELLIOTT,     THOMES    &    TALBOT, 
118  WASHINGTON  STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the 
District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


Bancroft 


THE  VOLUNTEER. 


CHAPTER  I. 
"BUBAL  CHOICE."— THE  VOLUNTEEB.— THE  BAKBACUE. 

No  preface,  reader,  nor  apology  here — this  is  a  story  of  thrill 
ing  scenes,  daring  deeds,  and  stirring  times.  We  will  leap  the 
breastworks  of  reserve,  and  at  once  dash  into  its  merits,  as  did 
the  brave  warriors  who  led  the  way  and  won  the  day  at 
Monterey. 

It  commences  with  the  fourth  day  of  the  attack  upon  Mon 
terey — the  day  when  our  brave  troops  were  forcing  their  way 
through  the  walls  of  the  houses,  step  by  step,  toward  the  heart 
of  the  city — now  meeting  the  foe  hand  to  hand  and  knife  to 
knife,  then  sending  the  deadly  rifle  ball  among  their  desperate 
ranks,  now  pouring  down  their  unerring  volleys  from  the  house 
tops,  then  through  casements  and  lattices  where  never  before 
was  seen  aught  but  flowers  and  smiling  faces,  now  treading 
with  armed  and  blood-stained  heels  over  silken  carpets,  then 
crushing  the  flowers  that  had  been  reared  and  cherished  by  the 
fair  hands  of  many  a  sweet  southern  girl.  But  we'll  do  as 
others  have  often  tried  to  do;  we  will  begin  ahead  of  our  "  com 
mencement,"  and  in  that  way  work  a  traverse  to  introduce  to 
you  our  hero. 

The  news  of  the  battles  of  the  eighth  and  ninth  of  May,  1846, 
had  reached  the  government,  and  already  had  requisitions 
been  made  on  several  States  for  troops.  The  whole  country 


4  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

was  in  a  feverish  state  of  excitement,  and  the  riflemen  of 
Kentucky,  that  class  of  whom  Byron  says— 

14  And  tall  and  strong,  and  swift  of  foot  were  they, 

Beyond  the  dwarfing  cities'  pale  abortions, 
Because  their  thoughts  had  never  been  the  prey 

Of  care  or  gain;  the  green  woods  were  their  portions: 
No  sinking  spirits  told  them  they  grew  gray, 

No  fashion  made  them  apes  of  her  distortions ; 
Simple  they  were,  not  savage;  and  their  rifles, 

Though  very  true,  were  not  yet  used  for  trifles, 

were  already  wending  their  way  to  the  numerous  recruiting 
stations  in  their  State.  To  one  of  these,  in  a  -backwoods 
settlement,  reader,  we  will  wend  our  way. 

The  settlement  of  "Rural  Choice"  boasted  one  dwelling 
house,  which  served  as  tavern,  post-office,  and,  whenever  a 
travelling  minister  came  along,  for  a  church.  Near  this  stood 
a  small  log  hut,  over  which  a  little  red  flag  was  hoisted,  to  sig 
nify  that  it  was  a  store,  a  place  where  grog,  calico,  sugar  and 
salt  could  be  bought  for  cash,  or  be  had  for  "  barter." 

The  dwelling-house  and  store  belonged  to  one  of  the  first 
settlers  in  that  portion  of  Kentucky,  one  who  was  known  to  all 
the  settlement  around,  as  '•  Uncle  Ned  Blakey,"  a  man  who  was 
loved  by  the  good  and  honest,  and  feared  by  the  vile ;  one  who 
had  the  reputation  of  always  doing  by  others  as  he  would  that 
they  should  do  by  him.  He  had  come  into  that  section  with  no 
property  save  his  axe,  rifle,  and  a  healthy  young  wife  whom  lie 
had  brought  from  the  mountains  of  Virginia,  and  by  untiring 
industry  and  perseverance  he  had  amassed  a  very  considerable 
fortune.  He  had  one  son,  and  that  youth  was  George  Blakey, 
the  hero  of  our  romance. 

George,  at  the  time  of  our  commencement,  was  just  twe«ty- 
one,  and  a  noble  specimen  of  a  backwoodsman.  He  stood  just 
six  feet  and  one  inch  in  height,  was  straight  as  one  of  his  own 
forest  maples,  had  a  brow  high,  fair,  and  unfurrowed  by  .care  or 
dissipation,  an  eye  blue  as  an  Italian  sky,  and  clear  as  the 
waveless  ocean  off  soundings;  limbs  that  developed  muscle  arid 
strength  which  would,  in  the  days  of  Grecian  splendor,  have 
made  him  a  favorite  model  for  the  sculptor's  eye. 

As  the  only  son,  he  was  the  idol  of  his  parents ;  as  a  handsome, 
dashing,  true-hearted  boy,  he  had  ever  been  the  favorite  of  all 
the  girls  in  his  neighborhood ;  as  a  generous,  bold  and  lively 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  5 

companion,  he  had  been  loved  by  all  the  boys  of  the  settlement. 
Few  indeed  were  more  generally  loved  and  admired  than  he. 
His  education,  if  one  should  judge  from  his  conversation,  was 
good,  yet  that  boy  had  never  been  inside  of  a  school  house. 
His  mother  had  taught  him  to  read ;  his  father  had  always  taken 
two  or  three  newspapers,  and  here  was  the  secret  of  his  educa 
tion.  He  was  always  conversant  with  the  news  of  the  day,  had 
acquired  a  good  judgment  in  literary  matters,  and  was  regarded 
by  many,  who  knew  not  where  he  had  gained  his  education,  as 
the  best  read  man  in  the  country.  There  is  a  moral  in  this 
truth ;  we  hope  our  readers  will  improve  upon  it.  In  the  mean 
time,  pardon  our  digression,  and  we'll  open  the  web  of  our 
yarn. 

Old  Mr.  Blakey,  or  "  Uncle  Ned,"  as  every  one  called  him, 
was  seated  at  the  breakfast-table  one  fine  morning  in  July,  184G, 
his  wife  by  his  side,  and  his  son  George  opposite  to  him.  The 
latter  had  just  read  aloud  the  requisition  upon  the  State  for  a 
regiment  of  troops,  and  as  he  closed,  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
much  to  the  alarm  of  his  mother,  perhaps  to  the  surprise  of  his 
father,  exclaimed : 

"  Old  Logan  county  shall  furnish  one  company,  and  I'll  raise 
them!" 

"What!  you,  George?"  asked  the  mother,  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  mother,  me!  I'm  sure  that  I  can  raise  as  fine  a  squad 
of  boys  as  'Old  Rough  and  Ready  '  ever  laid  his  eyes  on,  and 
the  old  codger  needs  men  down  there.  I  must  be  off!" 

"  Who'll  take  care  of  the  store,  and  open  the  weekly  mail, 
boy  ?"  asked  the  father. 

"  O,  let  the  girls  come  and  help  you.  The  store  is  a  poor 
place  for  a  man  at  any  time,  and  no  place  for  him  in  war  time." 

"  There's  a  deal  of  truth  in  that,"  said  Uncle  Ned,  "  but  it'll 
be  hard  for  us  to  part  with  ye  now.  It  is  one-and-twenty  years 
since  I  first  looked  into  your  blue  eyes,  and  never  have  you  been 
absent  a  single  day  from  my  side ;  but  if  your  country  calls  you, 
why,  boy,  God  bless  you !  I'd  a  done  the  same  when  I  was  of 
your  age." 

The  voice  of  the  father  trembled  a  little  with  emotion  as  he 
spoke,  and  his  lips  quivered ;  but  the  feelings  of  the  mother 
could  not  be  kept  under  the  same  command.  Bursting  into 
tears,  she  cried : 

"  O,  George,  don't  think  of  going  to  the  wars.  What  would 
we  do  if  you  should  be  killed  ?  We  cannot  let  you  go." 


0  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

"  Mother,  it  is  my  duty.  It  were  better  for  me  to  fill  a  brave 
man's  grave,  than  to  live  in  a  coward's  place.  The  call  is  for 
men;  you  would  yourself  blush  if  I  were  so  unmanly  as  not  to 
respond  to  the  call." 

"  Yes,  Letty,  the  boy  is  right;  you'd  despise  him  if  he'd  back 
from  duty,"  said  Uncle  Ned. 

"  Well,  if  it  is  best  I'll  try  to  bear  it,"  said  the  mother.  "  I'll 
go  to  work  and  fix  up  your  clothes." 

"And  I'll  set  the  sights  of  *  old  deer  slayer,'  and  run  some 
balls  for  her;  she's  the  truest  rifle  that  ever  barked  at  a  red 
skin  !"  added  the  father. 

"  Thank  you,  father,"  said  the  young  volunteer,  "  I'll  jump  on 
the  gray  gelding  and  ride  through  the  settlement  and  see  the 
boys.  Do  you  put  things  in  trim  for  a  barbacue  here  to-morrow 
—I'll  raise  the  boys  and  take  their  names  there,  for  we  must 
make  quick  work  of  it.  The  requisition  says  that  the  firsfcwho 
report  will  be  accepted,  and  if  I  know  '  Old  Kentuck,'  there'll 
be  a  rush  for  the  first  chance." 

The  parties  separated — one  to  drum  up  recruits,  the  second 
to  fit  her  son  for  the  march,  the  last  to  arm  him  for  the  fray. 

THE  BARBACTTE. 

Some  of  our  thousands  of  western  readers  will  not  need  a  de 
scription  to  know  what  a  barbacue  is,  yet  there  are  others  among 
our  eastern  friends  who  know  little  or  nothing  of  such  a  festival. 

In  a  grove  just  back  of  the  store  at  Rural  Choice,  beside  a 
large,  clear  spring  of  ice-cold  water,  a  long  hole  had  been  dug 
in  the  earth  early  on  the  morning  of  the  day  succeeding  the  one 
which  opens  our  chapter.  In  this  large  quantities  of  wood  had 
been  laid,  and  before  noon  it  had  burned  down  into  a  bed  of 
glowing  coals.  Over  this  bed,  upon  a  grating  of  sticks,  were 
laid  several  neatly  dressed  young  pigs  and  lambs,  and  those 
were  roasting  whole  at  the  time  when  we  asked  you  to  look  at 
the  barbacue.  Upon  the  mossy  rocks  around  the  springs  were 
clustered  a  large  party  of  young  men  and  women,  and  among 
the  trees  at  a  distance  were  tied  the  horses  which  had  borne 
the  company  here.  It  would  have  been  a  goodly  scene  for  a 
painter  to  sketch.  The  strong,  healthy  looking  daughters,  and 
the  tall,  hardy  sons  of  the  West,' in  their  coarse  but  comfortable 
garb,  scattered  here  and  there. 

George  Blakey  had  been  making  a  little  bit  of  a  speech  to 
thorn,  ami  now  sat  upon  a  rock  with  an  old  account  book  of  his 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  7 

father's  on  his  knee,  taking  down  the  list  of  names  on  a  blank 
leaf  of  the  same,  as  the  young  riflemen  crowded  around  to  vol 
unteer  under  his  command.  Among  the  girls  there  were  tear 
ful  eyes,  yet  not  one  of  them  was  weak  enough  to  bid  her  lover 
stay;  among  the  young  men  there  were  sad  faces,  yet  not  one 
faltered  as  he  wrote  his  name  or  made  his  mark  upon  the  roll 
which  George  held  in  his  hand. 

Thus,  before  the  barbacue  was  done  brown,  the  list  of  the 
"  Logan  county  riflemen  "  was  filled ;  and  leaving  his  father  to 
do  the  honors  of  the  rude  feast,  and  bidding  his  men  to  hold 
themselves  in  readiness  for  service  on  his  return,  young  Blakey 
sprang  upon  his  horse  and  hurried  to  Frankfort  to  report  his 
company. 

We  will  not  tarry  to  explain  the  minutiae  of  mustering  his 
company  into  service,  but  simply  state  that  they  were  soon  on 
their  way  to  the  seat  of  war,  and  that  they  joined  General  Tay 
lor  in  time  to  participate  in  the  siege  and  capture  of  Monterey. 
But  for  that  look  into  the  next  chapter. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blakey  deeply  felt  the  loss  of  their  son,  yet  their 
sorrow  was  softened  by  the  thought  that  he  was  doing  his  duty, 
and  they  were  proud  to  know  how  quickly  he  had  raised  such 
a  noble  company,  and  how  unanimously  he  had  been  elected  to 
command  it. 

George  left  no  sweetheart  behind  him  to  mourn  his  absence, 
for  though  he  was  a  general  favorite  among  the  fair,  yet  he  had 
made  choice  of  no  "  bright  particular  star  "  on  which  to  fix  his 
heart-gaze.  And  it  was  well  for  him  that  it  was  so,  perhaps. 

O,  how  many  a  warm,  tender  heart  has  been  broken  during 
this  war;  how  many  a  pale  face  and  tearful  eye  now  will  read 
these  words,  and  think  of  the  noble  and  brave  who  have  fallen 
on  the  battle  field, — are  buried  beneath  the  ensanguined  sod  of 
a  distant  land !  Be  comforted,  fair  mourners,  your  separation 
is  not  eternal ;  a  nation's  gratitude  is  as  a  pall  of  glory  resting 
over  the  tombs  of  your  beloved.  Though  they  lie  at  Monterey 
or  on  Buena  Vista's  plain,  without  a  stone  to  mark  their  graves, 
the  everlasting  monument  of  Fame  is  theirs ;  they  are  linked 
with  our  country's  history — they  never  will  be  forgotten !  This 
thought,  perchance,  has  cheered  their  dying  moments,  linked 
with  memories  of  you,  perhaps  it  has  painted  the  smiles  of  con 
tentment  on  their  pale  cheeks,  and  they,  like  the  glorious  Wolfe, 
on  the  Canadian  heights,  have  said—"  I  die  happy !" 


THB  VOLUNTEER. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  HEROINE  OF  MONTEREY  A  PRISONER. 

THE  pages  of  American  history  have  already  received  the 
records  of  the  glorious  five  days  which  were  occupied  in  the 
siege  and  capture  of  Monterey,  yet  there  were  many  incidents 
that  occurred  in  that  siege,  which  never  have  been  registered 
on  the  historian's  scroll ;  events  which  only  can  be  gathered 
from  the  lips  of  the  actors  in  the  fearful  drama.  All  know  how 
gallantly  the  volunteers  shared  in  the  perils  of  that  day,  with 
the  veteran  troops  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca's  fame:  the  records 
of  their  killed  and  wounded  speak  for  them,  and  tell  how  freely 
they  hazarded  their  lives  in  their  country's  cause. 

The  "Logan  county  riflemen "  arrived  just  in  time  to  join 
General  Worth's  attacking  division,  and  were  used  by  him  as  a 
pioneer  and  ranging  corps,  which  gave  them  an  opportunity  to 
have  more  than  a  fair  share  of  service.  Yet  this  was  the  desire 
of  their  young  and  ambitious  commander,  and  his  men  loved 
him  too  well  to  falter,  when  he  cried  "  follow." 

On  this  kind  of  duty,  he  was  sent  in  advance  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  September,  the  day  before  General  Worth  made  his 
last  desperate  and  successful  advance  into  the  city,  and  had 
reached  under  cover  of  some  hills  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
city,  when  he  found  advancing  upon  him  a  large  body  of  lancers. 
Closing  up  his  men  into  a  solid  square,  behind  a  low  wall,  he 
awaited  the  charge  of  the  enemy,  and  as  they  came  within  half 
pistol  shot  he  poured  in  a  volley  from  his  deadly  rifles  with  such 
tcrriflc  eflect  that  the  foe  recoiled,  and  all  save  one—that  one 
tin -ir  leader,  turned  and  fled  from  the  field,  leaving  a  portion  of 
their  comrades  lying  dead. 

The  leader  seemed  to  have  lost  the  control  of  his  horse,  or  to 
have  been  carried  away  by  the  impetuous  speed  of  his  charge, 
for  he  dashed  right  into  the  midst  of  the  riflemen,  firing  his 
pistol  as  he  came  on,  and  waving  his  sword  as  if  his  whole  troop 
were  at  his  back.  A  ball  from  one  of  the  rifles  had  grazed  his 
cheek,  another  had  cut  the  stem  of  the  coal  black  plume  from 
hia  helmet,  and  it  now  drooped  down  upon  his  neck. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  0 

His  horse  fell  as  it  leaped  the  wall,  and  in  a  moment  he  was 
in  the  hands  of  our  men,  one  of  whom  with  reckless  haste  raised 
his  heavy  bowie-knife  to  despatch  him,  but  was  stayed  in  the 
very  moment  of  the  intention,  by  the  voice  of  his  captain,  who 
cried,  sternly : 

"  What !  strike  a  helpless  foe !  shame  on  you,  Ghamp — *put  up 
your  weapon." 

Sullenly  the  man  obeyed,  and  Blakey,  springing  to  the  side 
of  the  Mexican  officer,  added : 

"  Yield,  sir,  you  are  my  prisoner !" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  officer,  handing  his  sword  to  Blakey ;  "  de 
serted  by  my  cowardly  followers,  it  were  madness  in  me  now  to 
resist." 

Blakey  was  astonished  by  the  soft,  sweet  tone  of  the  voice 
which  addressed  him,  as  also  surprised  by  the  pure  English 
which  the  Mexican  officer  used.  The  latter  seemed  to  be  but 
a  young  boy,  his  dress,  too,  was  singular,  and  his  appearance 
far  more  feminine  than  his  actions  would  denote. 

"  You  are  wounded,  sir,"  said  Blakey,  noticing  the  b'ood 
streaming  down  the  officer's  cheek  from  the  graze  which  I  have 
already  alluded  to. 

"  Would  that  I  were  slain — better  to  die  than  to  be  a  prisoner 
to  my  country's  foe!"  answered  the  other,  with  a  tone  of 
sadness. 

"  Say  not  so,  you  will  soon  be  exchanged ;  take  again  your 
sword ;  one  who  uses  it  so  well,  must  not  part  with  it.  Your 
parole  is  all  I  ask,"  said  Blakey. 

"  You  are  very  generous,  senor,"  replied  the  other,  raising 
his  helmet  and  bowing  low,  still  speaking  in  a  soft,  musical 
tone. 

Blakey  was  astonished  at  the  luxuriant  and  glossy  curls 
which  fell  from  beneath  the  young  soldier's  helmet  as  he  raised 
it,  and  then  a  suspicion  flashed  across  his  mind  that  a  female 
stood  before  him.  A  glance  at  the  delicate  foot  and  hand  of 
the  officer,  one  searching  look  at  the  long  hair,  and  in  the  jet 
black  eyes,  so  large,  so  dewy,  and  shaded  by  lashes  of  silken 
gloss,  caused  him  to  feel  certain  of  it,  and  he  spoke  hastily: 

"  By  heavens,  you  are  a  lady!  Speak,  is  it  not  so?  Has  it 
come  to  this,  that  even  the  women  of  Mexico  arm  to  repel  their 
invaders  ?" 

"  It  is  time  that  they  did  so,  senor,  when  the  men  prove  so 
cowardly  as  those  who  have  fled  and  left  me  to  your  mercy. 


10  THE  VOLUNTEEB. 

You  have  discovered  my  sex.  I  am  a  woman,  yet  I  hold  a  com 
mission  as  captain  of  lancers  in  the  army  of  my  country.  I  ap 
plied  for  it,  Ampudia  dared  not  refuse  me,  for  my  family  are 
too  well  known  to  him.  He  dared  not  affront  me  by  a  refusal  !" 

"  Lady,  this  is  very  strange.    Give  me  your  name." 

"  Edwina  Canales,  sister  to  the  guerrilla  chief,  who  is  even 
now  on  your  borders,  one  whose  name  is  well  known  to  your 
countrymen,  one  whose  history  is  strange  —  one  who  has  been 
made  a  foe  by  cruel  wrongs,  wrongs  that  have  left  us  orphans  ! 
O,  let  the  Texans  beware  of  our  revenge  ;  we  both  have  suffered 
by  it;  we  and  our  young  brother  !" 

"  Lady,  I  know  not  of  what  you  speak,  yet,  deep  must  have 
been  wrongs  which  could  induce  you  thus  to  unsex  yourself, 
and  face  the  fearful  perils  of  war." 

Tears  gathered  then  in  her  eyes,  as  if  the  memory  of  her 
wrongs  had  swelled  the  fountain  of  feeling  to  overrunning,  but 
her  tone  was  firm,  even  bitter,  as  she  said  : 

"  It  matters  not  to  recall  them.  I  am  your  prisoner,  and 
helpless  now." 

**  Yon  are  free,  lady;  Americans  never.  war  upon  women/' 
said  Blakey,  in  a  tone  of  deep  feeling. 

"  Free  ?"  echoed  she  ;  "  free,  yet  not  on  parole  ?" 

"  No,  lady,  yet  I  hope  for  your  own  sake  that  you  will  not 
again  meet  our  forces." 

"  I  shall  only  accept  freedom  on  terms  that  will  allow  me  to 
join  my  countrymen  in  arms,"  replied  the  maiden.  "  Edwina 
Canales  is  wedded  alone  to  her  country's  cause  !" 

M  Lady,  I  cannot,  will  not  detain  you,  yet  I  beseech  you  to 
retire  from  this  city  at  least.  To-morrow  we  assault  it." 

"  Then  to-morrow,  if  its  defenders  do  but  half  their  duty  will 
yon  be  defeated  P 

"  Lady,  we  are  led  by  Taylor  /" 

"  l  lo  has  been  successful,  he  is  brave,  yet  here  we  are  fortified, 
and  three  to  one  in  number  opposed  to  him  !" 

"  Yet  we  will  succeed  !" 

"PerAapaso!"  replied  the  lady,  with  a  doubting  smile,  and 
then  added:  "  if  I  am  free,  I  will  depart," 


*  »  '  lady'  accePl  mine  in  5ts  stead;  it  would 

root"  *        in  me  to  permlt  you  to  retarn  to  your  city  on 


-r-  „-  — ,  «s  a  loan  to  De  repaid  as  soon  as 

the  brave  girl,  and  the  next  moment  she  was 


THE   VOLUNTEEB.  11 

mounted  on  Blakey's  horse,  and  riding  with  a  free  rein  toward 
the  city. 

"Beautiful  as  she  is  brave!"  exclaimed  Blakey,  as  his  eye 
followed  her  noble  figure,  when  she  rode  away. 

A  few  moments  after  she  had  left  the  spot  where  she  had  been 
both  captured  and  freed,  Blakey  saw  an  immense  body  of  cav 
alry  ride  from  the  city,  and  once  more  he  prepared  for  a  strug 
gle  against  odds  which  were  too  great  for  him  even  to  hope  for 
success.  But  he  had  no  time  to  escape  by  retreat,  only  the 
officers  of  his  corps  were  mounted  on  that  morning,  and  his  own 
horse  was  gone.  Silently  the  little  band  re-formed  their  square, 
and  awaited  the  attack  of  the  advancing  regiment.  By  this  time 
it  had  been  met  by  the  freed  maiden,  who  rode  up  to  the  officer 
at  its  head,  and  caused  a  halt. 

The  Kentuckians  were  most  agreeably  surprised  to  see  the 
enemy  in  a  few  moments  after  turn  back  towards  the  city,  and 
they  knew  that  the  attack  had  been  suspended  by  some  influ 
ence  of  their  late  prisoner.  Blakey  soon  after  regained  his 
camp,  where  he  had  not  been  long,  before  the  story  of  his  ad 
venture  became  circulated. 

At  the  "  mess"  that  evening,  it  was  the  topic  of  conversation, 
and  many  a  joke  and  lively  jest  were  perpetrated  at  the  expense 
of  Blakey  and  his  fair  captive.  In  the  "  mess"  there  was  a  per 
son  who,  from  his  bullying  and  ungentlemanly  manner,  and  his 
universally  known  brutality,  was  disliked  by  all,  and  particu 
larly  detested  by  Blakey.  His  name  was  Gorin ;  he  was  a  cap 
tain  in  the  Texan  Rangers,  and  one  whose  proudest  boast  was, 
that  he  had  never  spared  an  enemy.  On  this  occasion,  he  con 
demned  Blakey  bitterly  for  his  mercy,  charging  him  openly 
with  a  neglect  of  his  duty. 

11  Had  it  been  me  that  captured  her,"  said  he, "  she  never 
would  have  gone  back  to  her  camp  alive.  She  should  have 
either  come  to  my  tent,  or  I  would  have  left  her  to  feed  crows 
upon  the  ground !" 

"  Thank  God,  sir,  that  you  did  not  capture  her ;  one  stain 
upon  our  arms  has  been  prevented !"  replied  Blakey. 

The  other  was  about  to  answer,  probably  with  some  new 
insult,  when  an  orderly  at  the  front  of  the  mess  tent  called  for 
Captain  Blakey.  On  the  latter  answering  the  summons,  he 
found  before  the  tent  a  Mexican  soldier,  who  had  been  admitted 
with  a  flag  to  see  him.  The  soldier  held  two  horses  by  their 
bridles.  One  was  the  same  steed  which  Blakey  had  loaned  to 


12  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

liis  prisoner ;  the  other  was  a  coal  black  charger,  of  great  beauty 
and  strergth ;  such  a  horse  as  a  knight  of  the  olden  time  would 
have  chosen  for  the  battle.  The  soldier  handed  a  note  to 
Blakey.  Opening  it,  he  read  these  words : 

"  The  kind  American  will  oblige  the  sister  of  Canales  by  ac 
cepting  the  steed  which,  with  his  own,  will  be  delivered  to  him 
by  the  bearer.  There  is  but  one  other  like  it  in  Mexico— that 
one  is  ridden  henceforth  by  me  alone.  They  are  mates.  Fare 
well.  May  we  never  meet  on  the  battle  field." 

There  was  no  signature  to  the  note.  It  needed  none,  Blakey 
knew  well  from  whom  it  came.  Taking  from  his  cap  the  white 
band  of  silver  lace  which  was  around  it,  he  handed  it  to  the 
soldier,  and  bade  him  carry  it  back  to  her  who  sent  him,  and 
request  her  to  wear  it  upon  her  arm,  if  ever  she  again  met  the 
American  forces  in  battle.  Then  he  retired  to  his  own  tent, 
for  he  was  not  in  a  mood  to  meet  Gorin  again. 

The  night  passed  away,  and  with  the  first  dawn  of  the  morn 
ing's  light  the  troops,  who  had  slept  on  their  arms,  were  in 
motion.  The  cannon  of  the  bishop's  palace  had  been  turned 
upon  the  city  by  our  artillerists,  and  soon  the  troops  advanced 
upon  the  city.  As  soon  as  they  got  within  reach  of  the  houses, 
a  hot  and  deadly  fire  was  poured  in  upon  them  from  windows, 
doors  and  housetops,  and  they  found  cannons  placed  m  the 
streets,  so  as  completely  to  enfilade  them  if  they  attempted  to 
march  up  them. 

The  gallant  Worth  saw  with  pain  that  he  would  lose  many 
*)f  his  brave  men,  if  this  was  attempted,  and  at  once  adopted 
the  plan  which  was  so  perfectly  successful.  He  gave  orders  for 
his  men  to  enter  the  houses,  where  they  would  be  partially 
covered  from  the  fire  of  the  enemy,  and  by  breaking  down  the 
walls  to  force  their  way,  from  house  to  house,  towards  the 
Grand  Plaza  in  the  centre  of  the  city,  where  the  main  body  of 
the  Mexican  troops  had  formed  their  camp. 

With  a  few  of  the  Texan  Rangers,  and  his  own  company, 
Blakey  had  led  the  way  on  one  side  of  the  main  street,  now 
skirmishing  with  small  parties  of  the  enemy  in  the  street,  then 
firing  from  the  house-tops,  or  again  clashing  down  intervening 
walls,  losing  every  now  and  then  some  of  his  most  daring  and 
list  ful  iiu-n,  until  nearly  night.  They  were  already  within  a 
few  hundred  yards  of  tho  Plaza,  and  were  gradually  gaining 


THE   VOLUNTEEK.  13 

They  had  reached  a  large  stone  building,  whose  thick  walls 
offered  a  very  stout  resistance ;  besides,  it  seemed  to  be  defended 
by  a  very  strong  guard  of  soldiers,  for  three  times  had  they  en 
deavored  to  gain  it  by  the  street  doors  and  windows,  and  each 
time  had  suffered  a  fearful  loss.  In  the  last  repulse,  Blakey 
was  wounded,  but  his  wound  did  not  disable  or  dishearten  him, 
for  as  he  regained  the  cover  of  the  adjoining  house,  he  cried: 

"  We  must  force  the  wall  again,  my  lads!  At  it  with  your 
pickaxes,  and  we'll  soon  have  more  elbow  room !" 

Beneath  the  heavy  blows  of  the  stalwart  backwoodsmen,  the 
walls  soon  began  to  crumble,  and  it  was  not  long  before  an 
opening  was  made ;  but  even  now  the  danger  seemed  to  in 
crease,  for  tw<5  of  the  men  with  axes  were  shot  dead  at  their 
work,  while  a  rattling  volley  poured  in  from  the  other  side, 
gave  token  that  there  men  there  disposed  to  defend  their 
ground  to  the  last. 

"A  few  blows,  boys,  and  we'll  make  room  for  a  charge  I"  cried 
Blakey,  seizing  an  axe  himself,  and  springing  to  the  work  which 
the  others  shrank  from,  seconded  by  one  who  possessed  cour 
age,  if  nothing  else  (we  mean  Gorin),  who,  with  a  huge  crow 
bar,  dashed  down  the  heavy  stones  as  if  they  were  mere  pebbles. 

In  a  moment  the  breach  was  large  enough,  and  the  men 
gathered  together  for  a  charge.  The  enemy  on  the  opposite 
side  could  not  now  be  seen;  all  was  silent,  and  even  Blakey 
began  to  think  that  the  place  could  be  gained  without  further 
resistance.  They  were  about  to  spring  through,  when  a  voice 
loud  and  clear  as  a  bugle,  cried  from  the  other  side  of  the 
aperture : 

"  Keep  back,  on  your  lives,  keep  back !  One  step  beyond 
the  wall,  and  you  all  perish !" 

"  By  heavens,  'tis  her  voice !"  cried  Blakey,  recognizing  the 
tones  of  his  late  captive ;  and  then  as  he  bent  his  eye  to  the 
aperture,  he  saw  her,  and  also  to  his  horror  saw  that  a  lighted 
match  was  in  her  hand,  and  that  she  stood  by  a  train  of  gun 
powder,  which  led  to  a  barrel  of  the  same  dangerous  material, 
which  was  placed  against  the  wall  which  they  had  just  forced. 
The  band  of  silver  lace  was  on  her  arm,  but  she  did  not  appear 
to  recognize  him,  though  they  were  but  a  few  feet  asunder. 

Gorin,  too,  bent  down  his  head,  and  as  he  looked  through  the 
aperture,  his  face  turned  ashy  pale,  not  with  the  fear  of  death, 
for  he  was  proverbially  reckless  of  danger,  but  with  something 
even  stranger. 


14  THE   VOLUNTEETl. 

"By  all  that's  fatal,  it  is  she,"  he  groaned;  "she  has  come 
again  to  curse  me  from  the  tomb.  Helen  Vicars,  what  do  you 
here?" 

The  last  question  was  spoken  in  a  tone  which  she  heard 
plainly,  for  her  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  as  fiendish  as  ever 
rested  on  an  angered  woman's  face,  while  she  cried : 

"Ah,  thank  God  it  is  you !  I  thought  I  heard  another  voice, 
which  might  have  stayed  my  hand ;  but  for  you,  death!  the 
doom  you  gave  my  gray-haired  parents !" 

As  she  said  this,  she  bent  down  to  touch  the  match  to  the 
train,  but  the  one  instant  delay  she  had  made  to  speak,  enabled 
Blakey  alone  to  spring  through  the  aperture,  and  as  she  saw 
and  recognized  him,  she  paused,  and  dashing  the  match  from 
her  hand,  cried :  "  You  shall  not  die — I  will  meet  him  again !" 
With  the  quickness  of  thought,  she  sprang  through  an  open 
door  behind  her,  through  which  her  company  had  already  re 
treated,  and  before  Blakey  could  recover  from  his  surprise,  she 
hail  disappeared. 

"  On,  men,  on  after  her,  and  a  hundred  dollars  to  the  man 
that  takes  her,  dead  or  alive !"  shouted  Gorin,  as  he  dashed 
through  the  breach. 

*'  Death  to  the  first  man  who  raises  a  weapon  against  her 
life!"  cried  Blakey;  but  the  object  of  the  threat  was  already 
beyond  harm's  reach ;  and  in  a  few  moments  afterwards  the 
bugle  sounded  the  truce,  which  resulted  in  the  capitulation  of 
the  city. 

"  Captain  Blakey,  you  had  better  beware  how  you  ever  at 
tempt  to  thwart  me !"  cried  Gorin  to  the  former,  when  the  men, 
obeying  his  order,  desisted  from  the  pursuit  of  the  maiden. 

Blakey  paid  no  attention  to  the  threat  of  the  other,  nor 
deigned  to  give  him  any  answer.  Yet  he  felt  strangely  anxious 
to  know  how  it  was  that  Gorin  seemed  to  know  and  fear  her, 
and  why  he  had  called  her  by  another  name  than  that  given  by 
herself  to  him. 

On  the  next  morning  the  capitulation  was  signed,  and  soon 
after  the  officers  and  garrison  were  permitted  to  depart  with 
the  honors  of  war.  In  vain  did  Blakey  look  among  their  re- 
tivutinir  ranks  for  the  form  of  his  heroine;  in  vain  did  he  make 
inquiry  for  her;  she  was  not  seen  again  with  the  Mexican  army 
Her  name,  as  spoken  by  Gorin,  who  seemed  to  know 
»'•«•  as  Helen  Vicars,  and,  who  was  she— what  had  she  to  do 
with  Gorin?  This  was  the  mystery. 


THE   VOLUNTEEK.  15 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  TWO  MAIDENS. — THE  LOVERS. 

WHERE,  on  the  right,  the  mountain  overhangs  the  celebrated 
"  Riconada  Pass,"  there  stands  an  old  castle  which  looks  with 
its  gray,  moss-covered  walls,  as  if  it  had  been  built  in  the  year 
one.  It  was  evidently  a  specimen  of  the  ancient  Spanish  archi 
tecture,  and  had  probably  been  erected  to  guard  this  pass  during 
the  early  times  of  the  country's  settlement,  by  its  discoverers. 
We  know  not  how  it  came  into  his  possession,  whether  by  in 
heritance  or  purchase;  but  at  the  commencement  of  the  war 
this  old  castle  was  the  property  of  General  Urrea,  and  to  it,  as 
a  place  of  safety,  he  had  removed  his  wife  and  daughter. 

The  latter  was  a  sweet  girl  of  twenty  summers'  blooming; 
one  who  possessed  all  of  the  beauty  of  her  mother's  Castilian 
stock,  with  the  natural  grace  of  her  father's  blood,  which  was 
that  of  the  ancient  Aztecs,  the  most  kingly  of  the  native  tribes 
of  Mexico. 

The  castle,  which,  after  the  pass  that  it  commanded,  was 
called  "  El  Riconada,"  was  hidden  from  the  road  which  wound 
along  beneath  it,  by  a  growth  of  thick  forest  trees ;  yet  from 
the  verge  of  the  battlements  there  could  be  discovered  little 
gaps  in  the  thick  foliage  below,  through  which  the  sentinel  on 
watch  could  catch  an  occasional  glimpse  of  the  path,  as  the 
breeze  waved  the  branches  to  and  fro. 

At  the  time  when  we  introduce  the  reader  to  this  scene,  a 
few  days  after  the  surrender  of  Monterey,  the  battlements  over 
looking  the  road  was  occupied  by  two  females.  One  of  them 
was  Anita,  the  daughter  of  Urrea ;  the  other  was  a  lady  whose 
age  appeared  to  be  about  the  same,  yet  whose  appearance  was 
very  different.  The  former,  as  we  have  already  said,  had  seen 
twenty  years  of  life.  She  was  small,  delicately  slender,  yet 
beautifully  and  gracefully  formed.  Her  face  expressed  a  char- 
ao.tp.r  of  snrnassino'  soft.np.ss  and  swppfcnp.ss :  shp,  looked  as  if 


10  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

smiles  and  tears  could  come  and  go  with  her  as  with  an  April 
sky;  as  if  she  could  grieve  with  the  sorrowful,  and  smile  with 
the  happy ;  as  if  her  heart  was  full  of  beauty  and  sympathy. 
She  seemed  to  be  all  woman — all  tenderness.  Her  companion 
was  a  tall,  magnificent  being,  with  eyes  black  as  night,  a  com 
plexion  brilliantly  clear,  though  of  the  brunette  hue,  hair  that 
hung  in  a  glossy  flood  of  jet  black  curls  down  her  graceful  neck 
and  shoulders ;  features  that  were  as  perfect  as  ever  painter 
pencilled,  yet  of  a  sterner  and  more  queenly  cast  than  were 
those  of  Anita  Urrea. 

Both  were  dressed  alike,  in  the  style  peculiar  to  the  country, 
yet  how  different  was  each  from  the  other,  as  they  paced  to  and 
fro  along  the  lofty  parapet,  engaged  in  conversation. 

It  was  sunset,  the  birds  were  flying  towards  their  nests, 
nature  seemed  to  be  settling  down  to  her  nightly  rest,  drawing 
over  herself  the  cloak  of  twilight.  The  conversation  of  the 
maidens  was  upon  the  only  topic  which  at  that  dark  hour 
occupied  all  the  true  hearts  of  Mexico. 

"  So  Monterey  is  fallen,  and  again  the  Northern  foe  is  trium 
phant!"  said  Anita,  sadly. 

"  Yes,"  responded  her  companion,  in  a  more  impatient  tone. 
"  Yes,  and  eleven  thousand  cowards,  who  held  a  fortified  town 
against  only  six  thousand  of  the  enemy,  have  given  it  up  to 
them.  I  blushed  for  shame  to  hear  the  bugle  sound  a  truce, 
and  when  I  heard  Ampudia  say  that  he  would  surrender,  I 
vowed  not  to  be  a  witness  of  the  shameful  scene,  and  I  am 
here!" 

"  Never,  dear  Edwina,  to  look  upon  scenes  like  those  through 
which  you  have  passed,  I  hope,"  said  the  other. 

"  Not  until  I  can  find  men  who  will  not  flee  before  they  have 
at  least  tested  the  strength  of  their  foes— twice  have  I  been 
deserted  by  my  cowardly  followers ;  once,  through  their  das 
tardly  conduct,  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  enemy,  to  whom  I 
should  have  fallen  a  victim  had  it  not  been  for  the  generosity 
of  one  of  their  officers,  who  saved  me— who  gave  not  only  life, 
but  liberty  I" 

"Life  and  liberty?  And  he  an  enemy!"  said  the  other  in 
surprise ;  and  then  she  added :  "  he  discovered  your  sex !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Edwina  Canales,  "  he  did— had  I  been  a  man,  I 
think  I  should  have  fared  worse." 

"And  this  stranger— this  Yankee— was  he  handsome?"  asked 
the  gentle  Anita. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  17 

"  Why  yes — I  think  so ;  that  Is,  he  looked  noble,  and  that  is 
beauty  for  me.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  a  warm,  brave  heart,  a 
free,  generous  soul." 

"And  did  you  not  love  him  ?" 

"  Love  him !"  repeated  the  other  ;  "  love  the  enemy  of  my 
country — love  the  invader  of  this  sacred  soil !" 

"  You  say  that  he  was  handsome — that  he  gave  you  life  and 
liberty ;  how  could  you  avoid  loving  him  ?  I  love  him  for  it," 
replied  the  gentle  Anita. 

"  I  have  given  him  his  life  in  return,  ay,  and  spared  my  dead 
liest  foe,  rather  than  injure  him  who  served  me.  The  debt  is 
repaid,"  said  Edwina,  coldly. 

"  You  are  a  very  Diana  for  coldness,  and  a  very  Minerva  in 
all  other  ways,"  said  Anita,  smiling. 

"And  you,  Anita,  are  a  foolish  little  Venus,  always  thinking 
of  love  and  romance,"  responded  her  friend. 

"  Well,  if  I  am  a  Venus,  there  comes  my  Adonis,"  said  the 
laughing  girl,  in  answer  to  her  more  serious  companion,  point 
ing  at  the  same  time  toward  a  young  man  who  was  clambering 
along  the  hillside  on  their  left,  steering  toward  the  spot  where 
they  were  standing. 

"  It  is  Bonaventura,  my  dear  young  brother !  He  has  come 
from  your  father's  camp,"  said  Edwina,  while  her  eyes  beamed 
with  the  warm  light  of  sisterly  affection  and  joy,  and  the  two 
waved  their  hands  to  him  in  token  of  recognition. 

Bounding  from  rock  to  rock,  along  the  narrow  and  perilous 
pathway,  the  young  man  rapidly  neared  them,  and  as  he  came 
nearer  the  blush  on  young  Anita's  face  deepened,  and  her 
swelling  bosom  throbbed  with  excitement.  The  youth  did  not 
seem  more  than  eighteen ;  he  was  the  very  picture  of  his  sister, 
in  all  his  features,  save  that  his  form  was  more  sturdy  and  less 
delicate  and  graceful. 

As  he  reached  the  side  of  the  ladies,  he  folded  his  sister  in 
his  arms  and  pressed  his  lips  to  her  own ;  then  turning  to  her 
companion,  he  raised  the  hand  which  was  outstretched  to  meet 
his  own,  to  his  lips,  and  warmly  but  respectfully  kissed  it, 
blushing  the  while  even  more  than  she  did,  whose  hand  he 
held. 

"Is  my  father  well ?"  she  asked,  as  he  raised  his  head  from 
the  salute. 

"  Well  in  body,  but  sick  in  spirit  at  this  last  disgrace  of  our 
arms,"  replied  the  youth ;  and  then  added :  "  He  has  sent  me 

9 


jg  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

hither  to  have  you  prepare  to  follow  him;  he  goes  westward  to 
collect  more  men  for  service,  and  he  considers  this  an  unsafe 
spot  for  you." 

"  His  will  must  he  oheyed,"  replied  the  young  girl ;     you  go 
with  us,  do  you  not,  Don  Bonaventura?" 
"  Certainly,  senorita,  I  command  your  escort." 
"And  you  have  heen  promoted,  brother,"  said  the  fair  Ed- 
wina,  as  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the  epaulets  that  denoted  him 
now  to  he  a  captain. 

"Yes,  sister,  thanks  to  my  kind  and  noble  general,  who  has 
advanced  me,"  replied  the  youth,  turning  and  again  pressing 
his  lips  to  her  cheek. 

As  he  did  so,  he  saw  the  scar  which  we  have  mentioned,  that 
was  caused  by  the  graze  of  a  rifle-ball,  in  her  first  rencontre 
with  Blakey's  command  in  front  of  Monterey. 

"  How  is  this,  sister  ?"  he  cried,  in  surprise ;  "  you  have  been 
hurt." 

"  Only  a  scratch,  brother,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile. 
"A  scratch— from  what?    Surely  that  is  the  searing  mark  of 
a  bullet." 

Yes — a  Yankee  rifle-ball,  if  you  must  know  it.  I  was  at 
Monterey,  where  rifle-balls  were  flying  as  thick  as  hail." 

The  youth  shuddered  when  he  looked  upon  her  cheek  and 
saw  how  narrowly  she  had  escaped,  and  then  said,  sadly : 
"  Why  did  you  expose  yourself,  dear  sister  ?" 
"  To  try  to  encourage  Mexicans  to  fight  as  they  ought,  to 
show  them  that  where  a  woman  led,  surely  men  should  follow ; 
but  I  failed,  as  you  have  heard." 

"  O,  my  sister,  had  I  known  that  you  were  there,  my  agony 
would  have  been  doubled.  I  little  thought  that  you  would 
leave  this  place  of  safety,  where  I  had  left  you  with  Anita." 

"  Well,  it  matters  not,  brother,  it  is  all  over  now,"  replied  the 
Bister,  carelessly,  as  if  her  deeds  or  her  dangers  had  been  but 
pastime  for  her. 

At  the  same  time  she  made  an  excuse  and  left  the  spot,  her 
brother  and  Anita  remaining  together.  The  latter  turned  to 
follow,  but  the  youth,  blushing  deeply  as  he  spoke,  said : 

"  This  twilight  is  so  soft  and  balmy,  senorita,  that  it  is  a  pity 
so  soon  to  leave  the  open  air;  will  you  not  stay  and  enjoy  it  a 
little  longer?" 

"  Yes,  If  you  desire  it,  senor,"  said  the  maiden,  archly. 
"Senor!"  echoed  the  young  officer— "when  1  last  parted 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  19 

with  yon,  Anita,  you  called  me  Bonaventura,  not  the  cold  title 
of  senor." 

"  You  were  an  ensign  then — now  you  are  a  captain." 

"Am  I  not  still  your  lover — am  I  not  now  even  more  worthy 
to  be  your  lover,  that  I  have  risen  in  rank  ?" 

"  You  are,  my  own  one,  you  are !"  said  the  warm-hearted 
girl,  and  in  a  moment  each  had  clasped  the  other  fondly,  and 
his  lips  met  hers  now;  not  again  were  they  touched,  as. before, 
respectfully  to  her  hand. 

It  would  be  uninteresting  to  our  reader  to  follow  the  conver 
sation  of  the  two  lovers,  perhaps  wrong  to  listen  to  their  little 
secrets,  and  to  intrude  upon  their  fond  tete-a-tete.  Therefore 
we  will  change  the  scene. 

On  the  same  evening  that  this  scene  occurred,  General  Tay 
lor  was  seated  in  front  of  his  tent  at  Walnut  Grove,  in  his  camp 
near  Monterey,  engaged,  as  he  ever  was,  in  the  many  duties  of 
his  responsible  and  perilous  service.  A  map  of  the  country 
was  on  a  drum  head  before  him,  his  adjutant,  Major  Bliss,  was 
looking  at  it  with  him. 

Captain  Blakey  was  standing  by  his  side,  holding  the  bridle 
of  the  magnificent  black  charger  which  had  been  sent  him  by 
his  former  captive.  He  was  armed,  and  evidently  about  to 
depart  on  some  mission,  for  an  escort  of  mounted  men  were 
seated  on  their  horses  at  a  few  yards  distance,  with  their  eyes 
fixed  upon  him. 

"  Captain  Blakey,!  want  a  reconnoissance  made  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Capallana;  I  think  that  Urrea  must  be  in  that  direction. 
You  will  pass  through  the  Riconada  gorge,  if  it  is  not  occupied 
by  the  enemy,  and  endeavor  to  find  the  whereabouts  of  the 
enemy  and  his  force." 

"  I  will,  general,"  replied  Blakey,  and  turned  to  depart,  but 
was  recalled  by  the  general,  who  said: 

"  Stay  a  moment,  sir.  Look  well  at  the  map.  This  is  a  sin 
gular  country,  and  you  could  easily  get  lost  in  it.  Be  careful 
not  to  expose  your  men  to  unnecessary  danger,  but  if  you  do 
get  in  a  scrape,  cut  your  way  out  of  it !  You  can  do  it.  I  know 
what  Kentuckians  are." 

"  You  shall  know  them  still  better,  general,  if  we  get  in  a 
fight,"  said  the  young  captain,  gratified  at  the  compliment. 
The  next  instant  he  was  in  his  saddle  and  galloping  oiff,  fol 
lowed  by  his  little  band. 


2Q  THE  VOLUNTEER. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  CONSPIBATOB  AND  THE  ASSASSIN. 

AN  eventful  evening  was  that  on  which  occurred  the  inci 
dents  of  our  last  chapter.  On  the  same  evening,  about  an  hour 
later  than  the  time  when  young  Blakey  started  on  his  recon- 
noissance,  a  man  could  have  been  seen  stealing  out  from  the 
American  camp  at  Walnut  Grove,  crouching  down  as  he  passed 
tin-  line  of  sentinels,  like  a  midnight  thief  or  assassin.  After  he 
had  passed  the  cordon  of  sentinels,  he  resumed  an  upright  posi 
tion,  and  at  a  rapid  pace  made  his  way  to  a  grove  of  orange 

near. 

On  arriving  at  the  edge  of  this  grove,  he  paused  and  whistled 
shrilly  three  times.  Immediately  a  low  call,  sounding  like  the 
cooing  of  a  ring-dove,  was  made  from  within  the  grove.  On 
reaching  a  clear  spot  in  its  centre,  he  was  met  by  a  short,  thick 
person,  in  the  dress  of  a  Mexican  ranchero.  As  the  moon  threw 
its  rays  down  upon  this  person's  face,  it  disclosed  features  of 
decidedly  an  Indian  character.  The  cheek  bones  were  promi 
nent,  the  nose  aquiline,  the  eyes  small,  dark  and  snakish  in 
expression ;  his  whole  face  seeming  to  be  a  map  whereon  a 
character  for  cunning  and  ferocity  had  been  plainly  written  by 
the  hand  of  Providence. 

The  other,  whom  we  have  seen  stealing  out  from  the  Ameri 
can  camp,  was  a  large,  heavily  built  man,  one  whose  dark  brow, 
coal-black  eye  and  swarthy  hue  made  him  much  resemble  the 
Mexican  race,  though  the  uniform  which  he  wore  was  that  of 
an  officer  of  the  American  volunteers.  He  was  armed  with 
pistols  and  a  sabre,  as  was  also  the  Mexican  whom  he  met.  He 
addressed  the  latter  in  Spanish,  speaking  it  with  all  the  fluency 
of  a  native,  but  we  will  render  his  conversation  into  English. 
As  he  saw  the  man  approach,  the  officer  said : 
"  IB  that  you,  Vicentio  ?" 
"  Yes,  captain ;  I  never  fail  iu  my  promise  to  a  friend  or  an 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  21 

enemy,"  answered  the  Mexican,  while  his  eyes  gleamed  with 
singular  brightness,  and  an  expression  of  strange  meaning 
passed  over  his  dark  face. 

"  It  is  well ;  here  is  my  part  of  the  promise,"  said  the  officer, 
handing  the  Mexican  a  purse,  and  adding,  "  there  are  six  doub 
loons  ;  now  satisfy  me  on  all  other  points,  and  I  will  double  the 
sum." 

"Ask  on,  then,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Well,  first,  tell  me  how  long  you  have  known  the  woman 
who  was  dressed  as  an  officer,  and  led  a  company  of  lancers  in 
the  last  battle?" 

"  I  have  known  her  a  year  or  more." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?" 

"  Edwina  Canales,  sister  to  Canales  the  ranchero." 

"  Is  she  a  native  of  Mexico  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know— she  is  a  Spaniard,  for  she  speaks  the  lan 
guage  fluently." 

"  Do  you  know  where  she  came  from  ?" 

"  No.  She  and  her  two  brothers  have  been  among  the 
rancheros  for  a  year  or  so,  and  are  much  beloved  by  them.  Her 
brother  hates  you  Yankees  to  the  death." 

"  I  know  all  that;  have  you  ever  seen  him?" 

"  Yes,  often." 

"  Has  he  had  the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  cut  off?" 

"  Yes,  captain ;  but  how  did  you  know  that  ?" 

The  other  answered  not  the  question,  but  muttered,  as  if 
speaking  to  himself—"  It  is  he,  they  were  not  drowned  as  I 
thought,  and  they  are  yet  alive  to  torment  me."  Then  turning 
to  the  Mexican  again,  he  asked : 

"  Do  you  know  where  she  is— Helen  Vicars  ?" 

"  Who,  captain  ?" 

"  She  whom  you  call  Edwina  Canales." 

"  I  know  where  she  was  two  days  asjone." 

"Where?" 

"At  the  Riconada  pass." 

"  What  was  she  doing  there  ?" 

"  Staying  at  the  casa  of  General  Urrea,  with  his  daughter." 

"  Vicentio,  she  and  her  whole  breed  must  die !"  said  the  offi 
cer,  in  a  tone  which  in  itself  spoke  a  hatred  deep  and  bitter. 

The  other  started  as  he  heard  this,  and  an  expression  of  hate 
crossed  his  dark  face,  but  in  an  instant  he  had  recovered  him 
self  and  answered : 


22  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

"  IIow  much  for  the  job?" 

"  Five  hundred  dollars;  half  in  advance." 

"  Not  enough— one  thousand,  and  half  in  advance,  or  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it,"  replied  the  Mexican.. 
"  Well,  swear  to  do  it,  and  you  shall  have  it." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  kill  the  woman  ?"  asked  the  man,  with 
a  tone  that  to  an  observing  mind  would  have  betrayed  unusual 
interest. 

"  That  is  my  business— if  I  hire  you  to  kill,  it  is  for  me  to 
choose  my  victims." 

"  Very  well,  captain ;  when  do  you  want  this  done  ?"  said  the 
other,  in  a  careless  tone. 

"As  soon  as  it  can  be." 

"  When  will  you  give  me  the  advance  ?" 

"  To-morrow  night — meet  me  here." 

"Very  well,  captain;  I  will  be  along  at  moon-rise,"  said  the 
Mexican,  and  as  he  spoke,  he  passed  on  toward  the  back  of  the 
grove.  As  he  went  off,  he  muttered  a  few  words  to  himself, 
that  were  not  intended  for  the  ear  of  his  late  companion,  as 
their  import  would  prove.  He  said,  in  a  low,  bitter  tone : 

"  The  Yankee  is  a  fool;  he  will  make  his  own  net  Vicentio 
can't  make  money  easier  than  to  fool  him  a  little.  Kill  Canales, 
my  master  and  my  friend!  ha!  ha!  a  likely  thing  for  me  to  do 
for  a  cursed  Yankee !  Kill  a  woman,  too !  Vicentio  isn't  afraid 
of  blood,  but  he  can't  kill  a  woman !" 

When  the  American  officer  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  Mexican 
no  longer,  he  spoke  out  in  audible  soliloquy  the  thoughts  that 
he  had  pent  up  in  his  bosom : 

"  So  it  is  indeed  she.  She  whom  once  I  loved  as  few  can 
love — one  whom  now  I  hate  as  none  can  hate!  Yes,  Helen 
Vicars,  your  parents  scorned  and  reviled  me— me,  and  now  they 
are  dead.  You,  too,  shall  die,  you  and  yours.  You  shall  know 
what  it  is  to  insult  a  Gorin!  Twice  have  you  escaped  me — 
twice  as  by  a  miracle,  but  now  I  will  not  fail !" 

The  reader  will  recognize  in  this  person  a  character  whom 
he  has  met  before— Gorin,  the  Texas  ranger.  Stealthily  he 
crept  back  from  the  grove  to  the  camp,  and  passed  unobserved 
through  the  lines  until  he  regained  his  own  camp. 

On  reaching  his  tent,  he  aroused  his  servant,  who  slept  by 
tin'  door,  a  negro  whose  low  forehead,  very  black  skin,  and  im 
mense  lips,  gave  him  the  mark  of  an  almost  idiot.  He  hud 
much  difficulty  to  awake  the  fellow,  and  was  obliged  to  adniin- 


THE  VOLUNTEEB.  23 

ister  sundry  severe  kicks  upon  the  colored  individual's  shin 
before  he  could  persuade  him  to  come  out  of  dreamland. 

"  Ga.be,  Gabe!  you  angel  of  soot,  get  up.  I  want  you,"  he 
cried,  as  the  negro  began  to  show  some  signs  of  recovering 
consciousness. 

"  Ki,  massa,  how  you  kick  um  shin ;  you  hurt  poor  nigger's 
soul,"  he  grumbled,  as  he  arose  from  the  footcloth  of  the  tent? 
where  he  had  been  lying.  Then  he  asked : 

"  What  you  want,  massa  cap'n  ?" 

"  Which  way  did  the  Kentucky  captain  that  I  told  you  to 
watch  go  ?  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  Massa  general  send  him  off;  he  go  towards  whar  de  sun  go 
down — ten  men  go  with  him." 

"  Didn't  you  hear  which  way  he  was  to  go  ?" 

"  Yes,  massa  cap'n,  but  de  name  crawl  out  my  recollecshun 
box  since  I  been  gone  to  sleep.  It  was  something  about  the 
Eikky  nider,  or  some  such  sort  of  a  man." 

"  Riconada— was  that  it— the  Riconada  pass  ?" 

"  Yes,  massa  cap'n,  dat's  him,"  answered  the  negro. 

A  smile  of  satisfaction  passed  over  the  face  of  the  ranger  as 
he  heard  this. 

"So  all  turns  out  right,"  he  said ;  "he  goes  to  her  vicinity; 
this  will  aid  in  my  plot  to  fix  his  flint.  No  man  ever  yet  crossed 
my  path  with  impunity,  and  he  shall  rue  the  day  he  ever  looked 
across  my  trail.  I  must  see  the  general  in  the  morning  and  see 
if  I  can't  bring  him  on  to  a  scent  that'll  run  my  range." 

Leaving  him  for  the  night,  we  will  relate  the  result  of  his 
morning's  interview  with  "  Old  Rough  and  Ready." 

He  approached  the  noble  general's  tent  soon  after  the  break 
fast  hour  was  over,  and  was  received  by  the  old  soldier  with  his 
usual  urbanity,  and  invited  to  a  seat  on  a  rude  bench,  which 
served  the  general  both  as  sofa  and  ottoman. 

He  opened  his  conversation  by  offering,  as  he  frequently  before 
had  done,  the  services  of  his  corps  as  spies. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,  Captain  Gorin,  but  I  have  at  present 
no  need  of  any  more  reconnoitering  parties  than  are  out  now. 
I  sent  Captain  Blakey  to  the  Riconada  pass  last  night,  and 
Colonel  May  has  gone  towards  Saltillo,  by  the  eastern  road, 
this  morning." 

"  Captain  Blakey  was  very  willing  to  go  in  that  direction, 
was  he  not,  general  ?"  said  Gorin,  in  a  most  lago-like  tone. 

"  He  is  always  willing  to  go  where  he  is  ordered,  I  believe, 


24  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

sir,"  replied  the  general.    "I  know  not  that  one  direction  is 
more  pleasant  to  him  than  another." 

« I  think  the  direction  he  has  taken  will  suit  his  taste ;  there 
are  attractions  for  him  in  the  vicinity  of  <E1  Riconada*  which 
he  cannot  well  avoid." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir.    Explain." 

"  I  only  mean  that  a  pair  of  black  eyes  will  light  him  through 
the  pass.  You  have  heard  of  a  female  who  led  a  company  of 
lancers  at  Monterey,  have  you  not?" 

"  One  whom  Blakey  took  prisoner,  and  set  free  when  he 
found  she  was  a  woman,  and  in  so  doing  met  my  approbation 
entirely?" 

"  Yes,  general,  the  same ;  and  a  beautiful  creature  she  was. 
Blakey  is  young  and  ardent;  lean  hardly  say  that  I  blame 
him  for  falling  in  love  with  her,  yet  that  love  may  lead  him  to  a 
neglect  of  duty." 

"  In  love  with  her?  I  presume  your  fancy  leads  you  ahead  of 
the  facts,  captain,"  said  the  general,  with  an  incredulous  smile. 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not  go  ahead  of  the  truth.  He  is  in  love  with 
that  lady;  she  is  at  the  Riconada  pass,  and  will  meet  him  there. 
By  accident  I  became  an  unwilling  listener  to  a  messenger 
from  her,  who  gave  him  the  directions  to  find  her." 

"  It  is  strange,  Captain  Gorin.  Blakey  has  ever  been  faithful ; 
even  if  this  be  true,  I  could  not  doubt  his  faith." 

"  Nor  I,  general,"  replied  the  consummate  villain ;  "  yet  I  know 
that  he  is  a  passionate,  impetuous  youth,  and  this  beautiful 
woman  is  the  sister  of  the  celebrated  Canales.  She  has  encour 
aged  his  attentions,  we  can  only  guess  why,  yet  there  surely 
must  be  some  good  reason  for  her  affection  for  an  enemy  to  the 
country  to  which  she  and  hers  have  proved  so  devoted." 

"  You  speak  truly,"  said  the  general.  And  now,  while  a  shade 
of  suspicion  seemed  to  come  upon  his  noble  brow,  a  smile  of 
quiet  satisfaction  stole  over  the  face  of  the  lago  in  the  scene. 

"  Had  not  another  detachment  better  be  sent  to  see  that  all  is 
right,  and  to  be  certain  of  performing  the  duty  you  require  ?" 
asked  Gorin. 

The  general  paused  a  moment,  and  seemed  to  be  wrapped  in 
thought;  then  springing  to  his  feet,  he  answered: 

"  Yes,  take  twenty  of  your  rangers — follow  him  to  the  pass; 
if  all  is  right,  join  him  and  aid  him  in  the  duty  on  which  I  have 
sent  him— to  find  out  the  position  and  numbers  of  Urrea's 
division.  If  there  is  indeed  treachery,  then  arrest  and  bring 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  25 

him  back  for  trial;  yet  I  cannot  believe  him  a  traitor.    He  is 
brave ;  the  brave  are  ever  true." 

"I  will  leave  ere  midnight  on  his  trail,  general,"  was  the 
response  of  the  now  contented  villain ;  and  he  soon  left  the  camp 
as  if  for  the  purpose  of  preparation  for  his  departure. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  CAMP  OF  CANALES,  THE  EANCHEBO. 

IT 'behooves  us,  reader,  to  make  you  acquainted,  as  fast  as 
possible,  with  all  of  the  different  characters  who  take  a  part  in 
our  singular  drama.  Therefore  do  us  the  honor  to  look  at  the 
following  picture : 

Upon  the  banks  of  the  upper  Rio  Grande,  near  where  the  Rio 
Sabinos  mingles  its  clear  waters  with  the  larger  stream,  you 
will  find  a  noble  forest  of  oaks  and  pecan  trees.  The  bank  of 
the  river  is  low  and  clear  of  shrubbery,  so  that  from  the  encamp 
ment  on  the  shore  you  may  look  out  upon  the  broad  stream, 
and  see  the  many  flocks  of  ducks  and  waterfowl  which  sport 
upon  its  waters. 

The  encampment,  we  said.  We  will  explain.  A  number  of 
small  camp  fires  are  ranged  close  along  the  river  bank,  and 
around  these  are  groups  of  rude,  warlike  looking  men,  whose 
dress,  consisting  of  loose  trousers— jackets  of  green,  trimmed 
with  yellow — broad-rimmed  hats,  raw-hide  boots,  spurs  of  im 
mense  size  and  long  rowels,  show  them  to  be  Mexican  rancheros. 
The  red  sashes  around  their  waists  are  filled  with  pistols ;  broad 
hunting  knives  are  also  there.  A  long  curved  sabre  is  hanging 
to  each  man's  belt,  a  sword  too  long  for  any  service  save  that  of 
cavalry. 

The  force  in  view  would  number,  perchance,  two  hundred 
men.  Their  horses  are  picketed  near;  at  each  saddle  bow 
hangs  one  of  the  dreaded  lassoes ;  .before  each  horse  a  lance  is 
thrust  in  the  ground,  showing  that  at  a  moment's  warning  the 
party  can  mount  for  service.  There  is  neither  tent,  banner, 
baggage  wagon,  nor  sign  of  camp  equipage  near — save  the  few 
kettles  which  hang  above  the  fires,  containing  their  suppers, 
probably,  for  the  sun  is  just  sinking  behind  the  trees  to  the 
westward. 

Beneath  a  rude  shed  formed  temporarily  of  green  palmetto 


20  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

leaves,  in  the  centre  of  the  encampment,  sits  one  whose  looks 
give  evidence  of  his  superiority  over  those  around  him,  although 
his  dress  in  no  wise  differs  from  theirs,  save  in  the  superiority 
of  his  weapons.  In  size  he  is  small,  but  compactly— nay 
elegantly  formed;  his  features  are  regular  and  delicate  as  a 
woman's;  his  eye  large,  black  and  dewy;  his  skin  dark,  yet 
clear  as  the  rind  of  the  sun-burned  pomegranate.  His  hands 
were  small  and  white ;  the  left,  however,  had  lost  the  thumb. 
His  face  was  peculiarly  expressive  of  a  kind  and  womanlike 
disposition ;  his  thin  lips  alone,  curving  downward  at  either 
corner,  gave  token  of  resolution  and  firmness.  His  eyes  were 
deeply  set  beneath  a  high  and  overhanging  brow,  which  mtght 
make  his  frown  as  dark  and  terrible,  as  his  smile  was  sweet  and 
pleasing.  And  this  man— this  gentle  and  mild-looking  person, 
was  Cauales,  the  Ranchero — he  whose  name  is  so  dreaded  on 
the  Texan  borders— he  who  is  a  terror  to  the  whole  country 
where  he  ranges. 

By  a  small  fire  close  in  front  of  the  thatch  where  he  sat,  stood 
a  very  large,  gray-headed  negro,  occupied  in  stirring  the  con 
tents  of  an  iron  pot,  which  hung  above  the  fire,  with  an  old 
bayonet— lifting,  ever  and  anon,  a  huge  piece  of  meat  to  the 
light,  as  if  to  see  whether  it  yet  was  done.  The  negro  was  full 
six  and  a  half  feet  high,  had  n  frame  powerful  in  proportion, 
and  his  face  was  singularly  expressive  of  character.  He  was 
armed  much  like  the  rest;  yet  his  position  and  occupation 
showed  him  to  be  the  body  servant  of  Canales.  The  latter  was 
seated,  as  we  have  described,  beneath  his  thatch  shed,  smoking 
a  cigaretta — casting  a  careless  look,  now  and  then,  over  his  camp, 
and  occasionally  looking  up  and  down  the  river. 

When  the  sun  went  down,  he  arose  to  his  feet,  and  taking  a 
bugle  from  the  ground  by  his  side,  blew  one  single,  long  call. 
The  moment  this  was  heard,  the  whole  encampment  ranged  in 
line  before  his  camp  fire,  without  their  horses.  Canales  passed 
along,  glancing  at  every  man,  as  if  to  note  both  his  person  and 
accoutrements — the  men,  as  he  passed,  giving  the  soldier's 
salute ;  the  officers  raising  their  swords  in  the  usual  way. 

The  inspection  over,  the  line  was  broken,  and  the  night 
guard  having  been  detailed,  the  rest  of  the  force  gathered  again 
to  the  vicinity  of  their  camp  fires,  to  partake  of  their  rude 
suppers.  The  guerrilla  chief  retired  to  his  camp,  and  the  large 
negro  removed  the  iron  pot  from  the  fire,  and  placing  a  portion 
of  its  contents  in  u  wooden  tray,  set  them  without  a  word 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  27 


28  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

horse,  the  first  care  being  to  feed  and  dress  their  animals,  and 
prepare  them  for  service.  The  girths  alone  were  loosed,  and 
the  bit  removed,  while  from  bags  hung  over  their  heads  each 
Ptred  ate  his  allowance  of  corn;  and  then  each  rider,  replacing 
saddle  and  bit,  rode  his  horse  girth  deep  into  the  river,  giving 
him  water  and  bathing  his  limbs  at  the  same  time.  All  of  this 
was  done  under  the  personal  supervision  of  the  chief,  who  paid 
particular  attention  to  the  manner  in  which  the  giant  negro 
attended  to  a  large  gray  gelding,  of  swift  and  powerful  build, 
which  had  been  standing  close  by  the  chieftain's  resting  place. 

The  horses  all  attended  to,  and  once  more  fitted  for  immedi 
ate  service,  the  men  gathered  around  their  fires  to  give  heed  to 
their  own  wants.  While  they  were  thus  engaged,  the  negro, 
who  kept  ever  near  unto  Canales,  hung  his  iron  kettle  over  the 
fire;  but  ere  he  could  prepare  its  contents,  his  master,  in  a  low, 
musical  tone,  such  as  he  ever  used  in  his  hours  of  calmness, 
called  him: 

"Matteo— here!" 

The  negro  answered  not,  but  in  an  instant  bounded  to  his 
master's  side,  with  a  step  wondrously  light  and  agile  for  one  of 
his  bulk  and  build. 

"Matteo,  Koberto  has  been  gone  into  camp  seven  days.  I 
fear  something  has  happened  to  him  !" 

"  Maybe,  yes—maybe.  No— rangers  thick  on  Camargo  trail, 
like  wolf  in  prairie,  but  my  boy  got  eye  like  eagle,  nose  like 
hound,  ear  like  weasel,  can  hide  like  a  snake  in  de  grass !" 
responded  the  negro,  speaking  in  good  English,  which  was  also 
the  language  used  by  his  master  in  addressing  him;  and  then 
he  grinned  an  attempt  at  a  smile,  and  added:  'If  Yankees 
catch  him,  de  little  debbil'll  fool  'em  like  possum!" 

The  chief  answered  not,  but  seemed  buried  in  thought  for  a 
moment;  then  springing  to  his  feet,  he  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  at 
the  sound  of  which  the  men  all  started  to  their  feet.  Beckoning 
one  of  them  to  him,  he  said,  speaking  now  in  Spanish: 

"  Pass  the  word  for  the  men  to  prepare  to  mount ;  I've  a  ride 
for  them  to-day.  Let  each  look  well  to  his  arms,  and  mount 
with  the  bugle  call,  when  I  sound  it!" 

The  soldier  turned  away  to  obey  the  order,  but  had  not 
passed  three  steps  when  the  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  was 
heard  coming  up  along  the  river's  pebbly  bank,  and  the  next 
little  half-naked  negro  boy,  mounted  on  a  small  but 
mustang  pony,  dashed  into  the  camp. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  29 

"  Dere  he  be,  de  blessid  little  debbil,  Massa  Harry.  Dere  lie 
be,  my  little  Bob !"  cried  the  huge  negro,  as  with  a  look  of 
pleasure  he  pointed  toward  the  new  comer.  "  What  for  you 
been  so  lazy  ?  why  for  you  been  gone  so  long  ?" 

The  young  negro,  who  could  not  be  over  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  of  age,  though  having  a  face  expressive  of  great  intelli 
gence,  paid  no  attention  to  Matteo,  who  was  his  father,  but 
springing,  or  rather  tumbling  a  back  somerset  off  his  pony, 
lighted  at  the  feet  of  the  guerrilla  chief,  and  in  language  entirely 
different  from  his  father's  thick  and  broken  words,  said: 

"  I've  come  back,  master." 

"Well,  what  news  ?" 

"Monterey  is  taken — soldiers  coming  into  the  country  thick 
as  fleas  in  dog  days — saw  some  this  morning — counted  them- 
Only  fifty  to  take  care  of  thirty  wagons !" 

"  Monterey  taken !" 

"  Yes,  master — great  many  men  killed — all  the  rest  of  our  side 
give  up  or  run  away !" 

"  Did  you  go  to  the  Riconada,  where  I  sent  you?" 

"  No,  master — had  no  occasion  to  go  there.  I  saw  my  young 
mistress  in  Monterey !" 

"At  Monterey?  what  do  you  mean  ?    What  did  she  there?" 

"  Showed  men  how  to  fight ;  mounted  a  horse  with  lance  in 
hand,  and  led  them  on  to  battle  I" 

"  What,  Edwina  thus  peril  herself  for  her  adopted  country ! 
Has  she  met  with  harm  ?" 

"  No,  master ;  when  the  rest  gave  up  she  went  back  to  the 
Riconada!  She  wouldn't  stay  to  see  the  disgrace  of  eleven 
thousand  yielding  to  five  thousand  men,  and  giving  up  a  fortified 
town.  She  sent  this  letter." 

The  young  negro  took  from  inside  of  his  raw-hide  boot  a 
small  package,  which  he  handed  to  Canales.  The  latter  hastily 
opened  it,  and  from  his  muttered  soliloquy  as  he  read  it,  its 
import  could  be  gathered.  "  Monterey  has  yielded — our  brother 
is  with  the  Urrea — I  shall  now  go  back  to  the  Riconada.  Your 
troops  could  be  of  use  here  to  annoy  the  provision  trains." 

"  Yes,"  exclaims  the  chief,  aloud,  as  he  read  this  passage. 
"  You  said  you  had  passed  a  train  this  morning,  Roberto. 
Where  was  it?" 

"  Only  a  few  miles  below.  They  have  landed  high  up,  and 
are  taking  the  upper  route  to  Scrralvo !" 


80  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

"Then  we  must  overhaul  them!  I  will  capture  them,  and 
then  move  on  to  the  south  I" 

The  chief  blew  a  single  bugle  note,  and  in  a  moment  each  horse 
had  a  rider — each  rider  held  his  lance  in  his  hand.  The  large 
negro  led  the  iron  gray  up  to  his  master's  side.  The  latter  felt 
both  girth  and  stirrup  leather;  then  with  a  light  bound,  un  aided 
by  stirrup,  threw  himself  upon  the  back  of  the  noble  animal, 
and  rode  along  the  line  already  formed  by  his  men.  Meantime 
the  cooks  of  the  encampment  had  hurriedly  lashed  the  few 
kettles  of  the  camp  over  the  back  of  the  pack  mule  that  stood 
near,  and  the  camp  of  the  raiicheros  was  broken  up — the  troops 
all  ready  for  the  march. 

"  Roberto,  you  must  ride  ahead,  and  scout  for  us !  You  are 
small,  and  can  evade  pursuit,  or  lull  suspicion !"  said  the  general 
to  the  little  negro. 

The  latter  smiled,  as  if  pleased  with  this  duty,  and  dashed  off 
in  the  direction  by  which  he  had  come. 

"  Dat's  a  great  boy,  if  he  is  little,"  said  the  giant  negro,  smil 
ing  with  two-thirds  of  his  face  open,  as  he  saw  the  young  imp 
dash  off;  and  then  seeming  to  recollect  himself,  he  added,  witli 
a'bigh :  "  I  beiebe  me  our  massa  forgot  to  eat  our  breakfus !  It 
aint  such  times  now  as  it  was  when  we  lived  up  in  old  Shelby 
in  de  Gorin  settlements.  Ah,  dem  was  times !  I  nebber  larn  to 
like  de  rancheros— nebber;  and  dat  Bob,  he's  jest  fallin'  into 
their  ways  as  if  he  didn't  come  of  'spectable  fadder.  I  wonder 
why  my  massa  couldn't  ha'  gone  summer's  else  dan  dis !" 

Thus  muttering  and  growling,  the  old  negro  followed  close 
after  his  master  and  the  troop,  who  rode  leisurely  down  the 
river  bank.  We  will  leave  them  here,  and  return  to  other 
characters  in  our  story,  and  see  how  fares  it  with  them. 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  31 


CHAPTEK   VI. 

AN  ATTACK.— A  BATTLE.— A  RESCUE.  ' 

ALL  of  the  night  at  the  commencement  of  which  he  set  out, 
did  Captain  Blakey  and  his  little  band  ride  rapidly  on,  under 
the  guidance  of  a  Mexican,  who,  recreant  to  all  feelings  of 
honor  or  principles  of  patriotism,  was  serving  his  country's  foe 
for  gold.  The  light  of  the  young  bright  moon  made  their  path 
almost  as  clear  as  if  day  was  theirs,  while  the  very  fact  of  its 
being  night,  made  their  journey  safe  from  meeting  with  other 
parties. 

It  was  the  orders  of  Blakey  to  travel  only  in  the  night,  in 
order  to  make  his  reconnoissance  more  secret;  therefore,  as  the 
dawn  of  day  began  to  cast  a  grayer  light  across  the  moonlit 
earth,  he  turned  a  little  aside  from  the  main  road  into  a  thick 
chapparal,  which  was  well  suited  for  his  purpose  of  conceal 
ment.  The  guide,  who  seemed  well  to  know  every  inch  of 
the  country,  led  him  into  a  little  ravine  a  few  rods  back  from 
the  thicket,  where  a  fine  stream  of  water  and  a  little  prairie  of 
grass  afforded  that  which  most  was  needed  for  a  day  camp — 
forage  for  the  horses,  on  which  while  feeding  they  would  remain 
quiet. 

Before  the  sun  arose,  Blakey  and  his  command  were  excel 
lently  well  quartered  for  the  day,  and  he  with  the  guide  haying 
carefully  effaced  all  traces  of  their  entrance  into  the  chapparal, 
felt  perfectly  secure  until  the  return  of  night  would  permit  him 
to  resume  his  route. 

The  men  soon  lay  down  to  prepare  by  sleep  for  the  night's 
toil,  but  Blakey,  not  having  all  confidence  in  the  honesty  of  his 
guide,  remained  on  the  watch,  to  look  occasionally  at  the  horses 
which  were  tethered  in  the  little  prairie;  then,  in  company 
with  the  guide,  passing  out  to  the  verge  of  the  chapparal  to 
glance  along  the  road.  The  "  eight  weeks'  truce  "  which  had 
been  agreed  upon  at  the  capitulation  of  Monterey  were  yet  in 


32  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

effect;  therefore  he  had  no  occasion  to  act  on  the  offensive  in 
this  scout,  and  though  he  saw  several  small  parties  of  Mexicans 
pass  close  to  his  ambuscajde,  he  gave  no  sign  of  his  presence. 
Thus  passed  the  day— his  men  and  horses  resting,  he  watching. 
When  the  sun  was  about  an  hour  high,  he  awoke  his  men  and 
bade  them  dress  and  re-saddle  their  horses ;  also  to  prepare 
their  supper,  intimating  that  he  should  start  as  soon  as  darkness 
•came  on. 

While  they  were  doing  this,  he  returned  alone  to  the  load- 
M.U>.  At  the  moment  that  he  reached  the  edge  of  the  chapparal, 
standing  in  a  spot  where  he  was  hidden  from  the  road  by 
bushes,  and  yet  could  see  all  that  passed  upon  it,  he  was  made 
aware  of  the  approach  of  a  party,  by  the  neighing  of  horses,  and 
the  clattering  of  iron  along  the  rocky  way.  Peering  cautiously 
forth,  he  saw  that  it  consisted  of  a  Mexican  officer,  two  ladies, 
and  a  small  escort  often  or  twelve  soldiers,  all  mounted. 

The  officer  was  a  young,  boyish-looking  fellow,  who  rode 
between  the  two  ladies,  gaily  singing  some  lively  catch,  which 
kept  one  of  his  fair  companions  in  a  roar  of  laughter  much  more 
musical  than  his  song.  This  lady,  whose  face  was  turned 
toward  our  hero,  as  she  turned  herself  toward  the  young  officer, 
was  very  beautiful ;  her  figure  slight  and  fairy—her  position  as 
she  rode,  elegant. 

Blakey  did  not  feel  it  in  his  heart  to  disturb  the  gaiety  of  this 
little  party,  and  they  were  passing  on  quietly,  when  a  crash 
caused  by  the  breaking  of  a  rotten  branch,  upon  which  he  was 
loaning,  caused  them  to  look  hastily  toward-  the  spot  where  he 
stood. 

Then  for  the  first  time  did  he  see  the  face  of  the  other  lady, 
and  to  his  surprise  recognized  in  her  the  heroine  of  Monterey- 
she  who  had  claimed  the  name  of  Edwina  Canales.  He  moved 
not,  nor  spoke,  after  the  branch  broke,  and  was  so  completely 
hidden  in  the  foliage  of  the  chapparal  that  they  saw  him  not. 
The  young  officer,  remarking  that  an  armadillo,  or  something 
of  the  kind,  was  in  the  wood,  resumed  his  song,  and  the  party 
passed  on. 

The  eye  of  Blakey  followed  his  heroine— now,  in  her  own 
dress,  far  more  beautiful  than  before— and  we  need  not  add 
that  his  heart  was  with  his  eye.  There  was  something  so  noble 
and  exalted  in  her  patriotism— something  so  queenly  in  her 
transcendent  beauty-that  his  enthusiastic  and  romantic  spirit, 
could  not  withstand  it.  He  was  in  love— in  love  with  a  foe ! 


THE    VOLUNTEEH.  33 

He  had  scarcely  glanced  at  the  other  lady — not  even  looked 
the  officer  in  the  face  after  seeing  his  heroine — therefore  had  no 
chance  to  note  the  twinlike  resemblance  between  the  sister  and 
tin*  brother,  ere  they  passed  on. 

"  Where  can  they  be  going,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  with  so 
small  an  escort?  Surely  they  are  imprudent,  for  the  country 
is  lilled  with  scouts  which  little  will  regard  a  truce  flag  when 
their  breasts  are  burning  with  revenge  for  lost  comrades.  Did 
not  their  route  lay  directly  contrary  to  mine,  I  should  hover  in 
their  rear,  and  joy  to  protect  that  strange  and  beautiful  girl." 

When  the  last  lance-pennon  that  fluttered  above  the  escort 
of  the  Mexican  party  had  passed  from  his  view,  Blakey  returned 
to  his  men,  who  had  now  saddled  theiMiorses,  and  were  nearly 
ready  for  their  inarch.  Mounting  his  own  powerful  black,  the 
mate  of  which  he  had  seen  but  the  moment  before,  Blakey  cast 
an  inspecting  glance  along  his  little  line,  to  see  that  all  was 
ready  for  the  march.  The  sun  was  now  sinking  behind  the 
trees,  and  night  was  gathering  in  its  quiet  and  gloom. 

Suddenly,  from  the  northward,  up  the  road  in  the  direction 
just  taken  by  the  party  whom  Blakey  had  seen,  came  a  rattling 
volley  of  musketry — then,  quick  as  the  thunder  when  lightning 
has  left  the  cloud,  a  yell  like  that  of  the  wild  Camanche  was 
heard.  The  sound  had  scarcely  reached  the  ear  of  Blakey, 
when  he  drove  his  spurs  into  the  flank  of  his  noble  horse,  and 
while  the  animal  reared  with  pain,  pointed  to  the  road,  shout 
ing — "  follow  me !  follow  me !"  Then  giving  a  loose  rein  to  his 
steed,  he  dashed  through  the  thick  forest.  His  men  needed  no 
second  command — their  horses,  too,  felt  spurs  in  their  flanks, 
as,  with  loosened  reins,  they  bounded  on.  A  moment  more, 
and  Blakey  had  gained  the  road;  swift  as  the  cloud  which  cur 
tains  the  hurricane,  on  he  sped,  still  hearing  an  occasional  shot, 
and  the  wild,  fearful  yells  which  told  of  the  death  struggle 
which  was  going  on. 

In  a  few  moments  he  arrived  in  sight  of  a  cloud  of  dust, 
which  he  knew  shrouded  the  combatants,  and  though  as  he 
looked  behind  he  saw  that  he  had  far  distanced  all  his  men,  still 
he  drove  his  noble  courser  on.  Nor  was  his  speed  retarded 
when  he  heard  a  piercing  shriek  come  from  the  distant  scene, 
and  a  moment  afterward  a  riderless  steed — a  horse  coal  black 
as  his  own — came  dashing  up  the  road.  As  the  horse  came 
near,  it  neighed.  The  neigh  was  returned  by  his  own,  and  in  <i 
moment  the  flying  courser  wheeled  and  joined  his,  dashing 


34  *HB  VOLUNTEER. 

down  toward  the  dust  cloud,  where  now  was  heard  no  more 
the  sound  of  gun  and  pistol.  But  yet  the  quick  clash  of  steel 
showed  that  all  was  not  over. 

On  into  the  cloud  of  dust  rode  Blakey,  and  as  he  reached  it, 
his  horse  bounded  over  a  group  of  dead  bodies.  The  next  sight 
he  saw  was  one  over  which  he  had  not  time  to  shudder— it  was 
the  fallen  form  of  the  young  officer,  who  lay,  partly  shielding 
with  his  form  the  body  of  the  younger  maiden,  yet  helpless  and 
wounded. 

Upon  one  knee,  above  him,  was  Edwina  Canales,  her  eye 
flashing  with  anger,  defending  with  her  brother's  sword  his 
body,  and  protecting  herself  from  the  fierce  attack  of  Gorin, 
the  Texan  ranger,  who  in  a  moment  more  must  have  crushed 
down  hef  feeble  guard.  But  with  one  wild  shout  Blakey 
dashed  in  upon  him,  striking  him  in  the  face  with  the  heavy 
basket  hilt  of  his  sabre  with  a  force  sufficient  to  lay  him  sense 
less  upon  the  earth. 

The  rangers,  Who  from  very  shame  had  held  back  from  aiding 
in  their  leader's  attack  upon  a  woman,  would  now  have  sprung 
upon  Blakey,  when  the  latter  shouted : 

"  Hold  back,  if  ye  are  men !  Why  has  your  leader  broken 
the  truce  ?  What  doth  he  mean  by  committing  murder  ?" 

At  the  same  moment  his  own  men  appeared  in  the  back 
ground,  armed  with  their  long  Kentucky  rifles ;  and  this,  with 
his  speech,  saved  Blakey  from  immediate  attack.  He  now 
turned  toward  her,  whom  he  had  so  opportunely  saved. 

"Again  I  owe  you  my  life,  senor,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  fear  you 
came  too  late  for  my  poor  brother,"  added  she,  looking  down 
at  the  officer  by  her  feet,  whose  feeble  moans  showed  that  he 
was  yet  alive. 

"  Your  brother,  lady  ?    This  surely  is  not  Licencio  Canales !" 

"  No,  senor;  it  is  our  younger  brother,  Bonaventura." 

Springing  from  his  horse,  Blakey  hastily  examined  his 
wounds,  and  responded : 

"  He  is  more  stunned  by  his  fall  than  injured  by  his  wounds, 
lady.  He  will  be  able  to  ride  in  an  hour.  But  the  lady—is 
she,  too, hurt?" 

4  O,  I  hope  not—she  is  his  betrothed !" 

The  fair  girl,  from  whose  lips  came  the  shriek  which  Blakey 

d  heard,  had  only  fainted,  and  now  began  slowly  to  recover, 

i*ed  by  a  plentiful  application  of  water  from  one  of  the  sol- 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  35 

dier's  canteens.  It  was  near  twilight,  and  a  singular  tableau 
was  presented  to  the  spectators. 

In  the  background  stood  Gorin's  troop  of  rangers,  undecided 
how  to  act  without  their  leader,  who  still  lay  senseless  on  the 
ground  near  the  feet  of  Blakey;  by  the  side  of  Blakey,  aiding 
in  the  restoration  of  her  brother  and  his  betrothed,  knelt  Ed 
win  a,  yet  holding  iu  her  hand  the  sword  which  she  so  well  had 
wielded  in  his  defence ;  around  them  stood  Blakey's  few  but 
faithful  followers ;  still  beyond,  lay  seven  or  eight  dead  Mexi 
cans,  being  those  of  the  escort  who  had  been  slain  in  the  onset. 
The  rest  of  them  had  fled — dashing  past  the  Texans,  and  es 
caping  along  the  road.  The  moon  arose  as  the  sun  went  down, 
and  as  there  was  not  a  cloud  between  the  stars  and  the  earth, 
the  darkness  did  not  much  increase  with  the  departure  of  day. 

The  scene  now  began  to  change.  Anita,  recovering  from 
the  swoon,  opened  her  great  black  eyes  upon  the  face  of  her 
lover,  who  was  now  recovering  his  consciousness,  and  looked 
around  with  a  face  expressive  of  wonder,  as  if  it  surprised  him 
to  find  himself  yet  alive. 

"  How  is  this,  sister,  Anita,— are  ye  both  alive  ?  Sir,  are  we 
your  prisoners  ?" 

"  No,  senor — I  do  not  break  the  flag  of  truce,  but  have  res 
cued  you  from  yonder  blot  upon  a  soldier's  name  1" 

"  Yes,  brother,  this  noble  officer  has  twice  saved  my  life ;  and 
now  he  has  added  to  it  by  saving  me  from  the  bitterest  enemy 
that  ever  persecuted  woman.  Do  you  know  that  face,  Bona- 
ventura?" 

As  she  spoke,  she  pointed  towards  Gorin,  who  still  lay  mo 
tionless  upon  the  ground.  But  his  countenance  was  now  so 
covered  with  blood  from  the  blow  which  Blakey  &id  given, 
that  young  Canales  looked  at  it  without  recognition. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you,  brother— it  is  the  murderer  of  our 
parents  I  He  who  has  hunted  us  as  the  bloodhound  hunts  the 
slave — who  never  has  stayed  in  the  hunt  save  when  he  thought 
that  we  had  perished  I  It  is  that  fiend  in  human  shape,  Gorin !" 

"  What,  and  is  he  yet  alive  ?  He  must  die !"  And  as  the 
youth  spoke,  he  raised  himself  feebly  from  the  earth,  and  drew 
a  pistol  from  the  holster  of  his  dead  horse,  which  lay  beside 
him. 

The  next  moment  would  have  finished  the  career  of  the 
ranger,  had  not  Blakey  stepped  between  the  young  officer  and 
his  helpless  victim,  saying : 


86  THE   VOLUNTEEK. 

"  This  mnst  not  he,  sir  I  I  must  protect  my  countryman,  and 
you  must  wait  till  you  can  meet  him  in  a  fair  field  for  your 
revenge,  which  I  doubt  not  is  well  founded." 

The  very  danger  lie  had  been  in  seemed  to  have  aroused  the 
ranger  from  his  stupor— for  while  Blakey's  back  was  turned,  as 
he  interposed  to  save  him,  he  arose  to  his  feet,  and  with  a  quick 
glance  seemed  to  comprehend  the  state  of  affairs.  Looking 
around  to  where  his  men  were  standing,  uncertain  how  to  act, 
he  staggered  toward  them — at  the  same  time  speaking  in  a  low, 
bitter  tone  to  Blakey: 

"  So,  you  have  dared  once  more  to  thwart  me  and  step  be 
tween  me  and  my  victims !  Your  time  has  come !  Men,  pre 
pare  to  charge  1" 

The  rangers  each  drew  tighter  his  rein — their  sabres  had  not 
yet  been  sheathed.  Gorin  was  helped  by  one  of  them  to  re 
mount  his  horse,  and  now  he  rode  slowly  up  to  within  a  few 
paces  of  Blakey,  who  had  formed  his  little  party  in  advance  of 
his  Mexican  charge.  When  here,  he  drew  his  rein,  and  seeing 
the  determined  front  of  Blakey's  force,  evinced  a  desire  to 
parley.  With  a  voice  forcedly  calm,  he  addressed  Blakey. 

"  Captain  Blakey,  I  have  no  wish  to  have  any  difficulty  with 
you,  but  I  demand  from  you  my  prisoners,  whom  you  have 
taken  into  charge  without  authority." 

"  Captain  Gorin  is  aware  that  the  eight  weeks'  truce  has  not 
expired,  and  that  he  has  no  right  to  break  it.  This  officer  and 
these  ladies  are  not  prisoners — they  are  under  my  protection, 
now.  You  had  no  right  to  attack  them." 

"  Right?  Preach  you  of  right?  I'll  soon  show  that  might 
Is  right  here.  Once  more  I  demand  them  of  you—and  refuse 
me  at  your  peril !" 

"  Peril  or  no  peril,  I  will  do  my  duty!"  cried  Blakey.  "  If 
you  reach  them,  it  will  be  over  my  body.  Stand  firm,  men ! 
Cover  each  a  man  with  your  rifles,  but  leave  the  wretch  who 
leads  them  to  me,"  added  he  to  his  own  followers. 

Gorin  was  about  to  give  the  word.  He  had  already  bent 
forward  in  his  saddle,  when  the  full  blast  of  several  bugles  came 
sweeping  up  the  road,  and  then  followed  a  heavy  clattering  of 
hoofs,  while  could  be  seen  an  immense  body  of  horsemen  riding 

t  full  speed  from  the  northward.    Gorin  paused  in  giving  the 

ler,  for  he  saw  that  the  flag  of  Mexico  waved  in  the  moon- 
ns  over  the  advancing  party,  who  were  at  least  a  full  regi- 


THE  VOLUNTEEK.  37 

ment,  and  lie  was  now  willing  enough  to  let  the  truce  protect 
him  if  it  could. 

In  another  moment  both  of  the  small  parties  were  surrounded 
by  the  larger,  from  which  a  group  of  officers  immediately  rode 
out,  approaching  the  spot  where  Blakey  stood.  At  their  head 
was  a  short,  dark-skinned,  corpulent  little  man,  whose  eye 
glanced  quickly  over  the  scene.  As  the  younger  of  the  ladies 
saw  him,  she  screamed,  with  a  wild,  glad  tone,  "it  is  my 
father !"  and  bounding  forward,  raised  her  lips  to  his  own,  as 
he  bowed  low  from  his  fiery  war  steed. 

"  My  general,"  said  young  Canales,  "  behold  the  saviour  of 
your  daughter,  my  sister  and  myself!"  at  the  same  moment 
pointing  to  Blakey,  who  unconsciously,  perchance,  had  grasped 
the  not  withdrawn  hand  of  Ed  win  a. 

"  I  have  him  to  thank,  then.  But  who  was  it  that  attacked 
you  ?  Is  this  the  way  the  Americans  keep  their  faith  ? — is  there 
no  safety  under  their  flag  of  truce  ?"  said  Urrea,  bitterly — for 
this  was  no  other  than  that  general. 

"  There  is  no  honor  in  yon  disgrace  to  our  army,  general ; 
but  he  shall  pay  dearly  for  this  villany — a  court-martial  shall 
have  cognizance  of  the  affair,  as  soon  as  I  return  to  camp." 

"  It  will  be  well  if  they  but  hang  him,"  replied  the  other. 
Then  turning  to  his  daughter  and  companions,  he  added :  "I 
had  feared  to  find  you  all  slain.    I  met  the  fugitives  of  your  < 
party,  who  told  me  that  you  were  surrounded  and  cut  to 
pieces." 

"So  would  we  have  been,  had  not  this  noble  officer  risked 
his  own  life  to  save  us,"  replied  young  Canales;  and  then  added 
— "  Even  now  you  came  only  in  time  to  prevent  yon  wolf  from 
attempting  to  wrest  us  from  our  protector's  hand." 

Urrea  turned  toward  where  Gorin  and  his  band  sat  upon 
their  horses,  and  while  his  dark  brow  grew  darker  with  anger, 
he  cried : 

"  Begone,  sir !  Do  not  remain  here  to  tempt  me  to  break  the 
truce,  and  to  hang  you  with  your  own  halters.  You  can  pass 
free  now,  but  be  beyond  my  hearing  in  ten  minutes,  or  I  will 
take  justice  in  my  own  hands,  and  save  future  trouble." 

Gorin  seemed  to  know  that  this  was  neither  time  nor  place 
to  dally,  and  turning  his  rein,  first  speaking  in  a  tone  of  mild 
bitterness  to  Blakey — "  I  ride  back  to  inform  upon  traitors,  and 
to  prepare  your  gibbet  1"  rode  away  with  his  men.  Bark  and 
ominous  was  the  villain's  look  as  he  made  this  threat,  but  it  had 


38  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

no  effect  upon  Blakey,  who  knew  that  he  had  done  his  duty, 
both  as  a  man  and  a  soldier. 

That  night  these  Americans  and  Mexicans  separated  with 
different  feelings  than  either  had  yet  possessed  during  the  war 
—each  having  a  higher  estimate  of  the  other  than  they  had 
before.  Urrea  encamped  near  where  the  skirmish  had  taken 
place— Blakey  passed  on  upon  his  duty.  Neither  he  nor  Ed- 
wina  Canales  had  been  for  a  moment  alone ;  yet  they  had  stood 
hand  in  hand  together,  and  when  Gorin  made  his  last  threat, 
he  had  felt  her  hand  tremble,  as  if  she  had  not  only  understood 
the  threat,  but  felt  for  his  danger.  He  knew  not  that  she  loved 
him— he  knew  that  he  did  love  her,  and  in  this  state  we  will 
leave  him. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GENEBAL  TAYLOR  AND    THE  FALSE   ACCUSATION. 

Ox  the  same  day  which  in  our  fifth  chapter  the  reader  has 
found  opening  with  the  march  of  Canales  and  his  rude  ranch- 
eros  from  his  camp,  along  a  road  not  more  than  fifteen  miles 
from  that  camp,  a  wagon  train  was  wending  its  way  slowly 
toward  the  American  army,  bearing  provisions  and  ammunition 
for  use.  A  small  guard  of  dragoons  were  riding  in  advance, 
soldiers  not  of  the  reguiar  army,  but  a  detachment  from  a  Ten 
nessee  regiment  of  cavalry.  There  was  but  one  officer  in  charge, 
and  he  was  such  an  odd  character  that  we  think  him  worth 
describing. 

He  was  a  bow-legged,  thin  slab  of  a  man,  built  very  like  a 
crooked-neck  squash,  with  a  small  head,  superabundant  with 
hair,  and  apparently  superabundant  with  nothing  else.  He  rode 
a  large,  quiet  looking  horse,  which  required  a  constant  applica 
tion  of  the  spur  to  keep  him  on  the  move,  and  rode  him  as  much 
like  a  pair  of  tongs  slung  across  the  saddle,  as  one  can  imagine. 

His  men  were  many  of  them  fine,  daring-looking  fellows,  who 
not  only  sat  on  their  horses  well,  but  handled  their  weapons  as 
If  they  knew  how  to  use  them.  The  train  moved  slowly  along, 
wUh  this  leader  at  their  head— his  men,  about  fifty  in  number, 
carelessly  following,  not  in  military  order,  but  just  as  the  fancy 
of  each  suited  him. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  S9 

Two  or  three  times  did  the  sergeant,  who  was  evidently  an 
old  soldier,  ride  up  alongside  of  the  officer,  and  mention  that  it 
would  be  better  to  keep  in  file ;  but  each  time  his  commander 
replied,  with  an  air  of  dignity : 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,  sergeant!  This  isn't  my  first 
campaign.  When  I  was  in  the  Florida  war — " 

"  But,  Captain  Bilbo,  this  isn't  the  Florida  war,  nor  the  Florida 
country,"  replied  the  other. 

"But  it  is  very  Hike  it,  sir,  and  I'm  not  afraid  of  a  surprise; 
the  country  is  open,  very  like  the  Florida  country." 

"  Not  so  many  hollow  logs  in  it,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant;  and 
there  was  a  quiet  chuckle  heard  after  he  used  this  expression. 

We  know  not  what  he  'meant  by  the  "  hollow  logs,"  but  the 
captain  seemed  to  dislike  the  allusion,  for  he  turned  exceedingly 
red  in  the  face,  and  replied : 

"  I  wish  you'd  go  to  the  rear,  sir,  and  see  how  the  train  keeps 
together." 

"I  thought  I'd  touch  him,"  said  the  sergeant, inaudibly, as  he 
rode  off  to  obey  the  order.  "  His  Florida  campaign  sounds  very 
well  when  I'm  not  alongside  of  him ;  I  think  he'll  not  speak  of 
it  often  when  I'm  about,  though." 

As  the  sergeant  fell  back,  the  captain  turned  to  a  soldier  who 
rode  near  him — a  fellow  who  with  a  thin,  peaked  face,  eyes  like 
two  half-ripe  seeds  in  a  rotten  water-melon,  and  a  form  more 
short,  but  exceedingly  like  that  of  the  officer,  looked  to  be  a 
bird  somewhat  of  the  same  feather — and  remarked: 

"  This  is  tiresome  work,Trabou — worse  than  gulling  the  folks 
at  home  into  the  idea  that  our  patriotism  alone  led  us  into  the 
scrape.  I'd  rather  stay  there  and  preach  law,  by  all  odds,  if 
the  pay  was  only  half  as  good." 

"  Yes,  cnptain — and  all  I  wish  is,  that  my  year  was  out.  I 
didn't  think  we'd  ever  have  a  chance  to  get  into  a  real  fight 
here,  when  I  started." 

"  O,  I  did,  or  I  wouldn't  have  come !"  responded  the  other, 
pompously.  "  When  I  was  in  Florida— O,  Lord!  what's  that?" 

And  the  brave  captain's  face  turned  pale,  as  he  heard  the 
shrill  blast  of  a  bugle  sounding  from  the  head  of  a  ravine  through 
which  they  had  just  passed,  and  in  which  the  train  was  now 
completely  shut  in.  At  the  same  moment,  a  body  of  cavalry 
dashed  frwn  upon  them  at  full  speed. 

The  captain  looked  around;  there  was  no  chance  to  run  and 
yet  he  gave  no  order !  But  his  men,  without  waiting  for  orders, 


40  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

poured  in  an  irregular  fire  upon  the  enemy,  which,  though  it 
did  not  check  their  charge,  tumbled  some  of  them  from  their 
saddles.  In  a  moment  the  lancers  were  down  upon  them,  and 
as  they  were  not  in  ranks,  or  in  any  way  prepared  to  receive 
them,  the  Americans  were  in  a  moment  scattered— some  of 
them  disramed,  many  of  them  slain.  The  action,  if  such  it  could 
be  called,  did  not  last  more  than  a  minute ;  the  few  Americans 
who  resisted,  were  slain ;  all  who  could  had  escaped,  and  fore 
most  among  the  latter,  was  the  officer  in  charge. 

We  need  only  say  that  the  attack  was  made  by  Canales,  and 
was  entirely  successful.  The  whole  train  fell  into  his  hands, 
and  with  it  he  hurried  to  the  southward,  to  endeavor  to  join  the 
western  division  of  the  army  under  Urrea  which  he  knew  to  be 
in  need  both  of  ammunition  and  stores. 

We  will  now  change  again  our  scene.  It  was  only  two  days 
after  Gorin  had  set  forth  from  the  camp,  when  he  again  made 
his  appearance  there,  bearing  the  mark  of  some  severe  usage  in 
his  bandaged  head  and  scarred  face.  Two  of  his  men  had  also 
fallen  in  the  affray  which  we  have  described.  He  instantly  re 
paired  to  the  quarters  of  General  Taylor,  who  saw  with  surprise 
that  he  had  been  wounded,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  sir,  what  news  ?   You  seem  to  have  been  in  a  scrape  ?" 

"  Yes,  general — and  one  that  nearly  became  fatal  to  me,  and 
has  cost  me  two  brave  men." 

"  How,  sir  ?    Explain.    Where  is  Blakey  ?" 

"  I  left  him  with  General  Urrea  and  the  black-eyed  lady  of 
whom  I  told  you  before  I  left.  He  is,  I  expect,  enjoying  himself, 
now,  as  I  left  him  on  excellent  terms  with  the  enemy." 

"What,  sir?  I  must  see  into  this.  How  did  you  get 
wounded  ?" 

"I  was  attacked  by  a  small  body  of  Mexicans,  but  repulsed 
them  with  a  loss  of  eight  or  ten  killed  and  had  three  taken 
prisoners,  when  Blakey  came  up,  and  interfering,  rescued  them 
from  me,  backed  up  by  General  Urrea  and  a  whole  regiment  of 
lancers." 

"  What!  acted  against  you  in  co-operation  with  the  enemy? 
I  cannot  believe  it." 

"  Summon  my  men,  sir!  Have  him  arrested,  and  see  if  he 
will  dare  deny  it!" 

"  I  fear  it  will  be  hard  to  arrest  him,  if  he  has  gone  over  to 
the  enemy." 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  41 

"He  has  not  gone  over  to  them  permanently.  His  act,  he 
says,  is  sanctioned  by  the  truce." 

"  Was  not  the  truce  first  broken  by  them  ?"  And  the  general 
eyed  the  ranger  sternly,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  they  made  the  attack,  sir !"  replied  the  villain,  with 
unblushing  effrontery.  * 

"  Then  if  Blakey  aided  them  and  rescued  prisoners  taken  in 
that  attack,  he  is  a  traitor  and  shall  die  a  traitor's  death." 

"Who  were  those  prisoners?"  asked  an  officer  who  stood 
beside  the  general. 

"  One  was  a  captain — the  brother  of  Canales !  The  others  I 
did  not  know,"  was  the  response  of  Gorin. 

"  The  brother  of  Canales !  And  was  he  thus  taken  in  arms 
and  permitted  to  escape  ?  This  is  too  bad !  he  was  an  impor 
tant  prisoner;  his  brother  is  more  to  be  feared  than  Santa  Anna 
himself.  Those  rancheros,  like  the  guacheros  of  Buenos  Ayres, 
can  live  forever  in  the  saddle,  and  they  are  as  brave  as  they  are 
hardy." 

At  this  moment  an  orderly  hastened  up  to  the  general  and 
presented  him  a  packet,  saying,  as  he  handed  it — "  Despatches 
for  the  general,  from  Camargo!" 

The  chief  hastily  opened  them,  and  as  he  read,  his  brow 
darkened  with  anger. 

"  So,"  he  cried,  "  this  truce  is  to  be  broken  on  all  sides !  A 
wagon  train  is  taken  by  this  same  Canales,  and  several  of  the 
guard  killed.  If  they  will  break  the  truce,  let  the  consequences 
be  on  their  own  head !" 

The  general  paused  a  moment  and  looked  around,  as  if  to  see 
some  officer;  and  as  his  eye  fell  upon  one  who  was  busily 
engaged  in  writing  on  a  barrel-head  near,  he  cried: 

"  Major  Bliss,  I  want  you!" 

The  officer  started  to  his  feet,  and  joined  the  general. 

"  Major,  order  out  McCullough's  rangers — all  of  'em — and 
tell  him  to  go  and  find  Cauales,  and  to  give  him  Jessie,  wher 
ever  he  catches  him !" 

"  While  the  truce  is  in  force,  general  ?" 

"Yes — there's  no  truce  for  hi  ml  He's  broken  it,  and  may 
swallow  the  consequences.  And  while  I  think  of  it,  order  the 
arrest  of  Captain  Blakey,  Kentucky  Volunteers,  for  treason — 
charges  preferred  by  Captain  Gorin." 

"  Captain  Blakey  on  a  charge  of  treason,  General!"  exclaimed 


42  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

not  a  braver  man,  or  a  better  soldier,  attached  to  your  army,  or 
out-  more  devoted  to  his  country!" 

"  Then,  sir,  his  trial  will  do  him  no  harm,"  responded  the  old 
general,  hastily. 

"But,  sir,  Captain  Gorin  is  his  private  enemy;  his  hostility  is 
personal,"  added  Bliss,  earnestly. 

"I  deny  it— it  is  not  so,  major!"  said  Gorin,  hastily,  but 
reddening  as  he  spoke.  "  We  had  words  once,  but  the  aftair 
was  settled  long  ago." 

"What  was  it  about,  sir?"  asked  the  general.    And  again 
his  stern  glance  was  bent  searchingly  upon  the  villain. 
"  Only  some  trifling  talk  at  the  mess-table,"  was  the  reply. 
"Again  bespeaks  falsely!"  said  Bliss.    "The  quarrel  was, 
that  Gorin,  in  the  capture  of  Monterey,  tried  to  slay  a  woman, 
and  was  prevented  by  Blakey." 

"  Was  this  the  trifling  matter  of  which  you  speak  so  carelessly  ? 
If  you  arc  one  who  considers  it  a  trifling  matter  to  ill  treat  a 
woman,  I  shall  be  careful  how  I  take  your  word  in  other  mat 
ters.  You  will  remain  at  camp,  sir,  and  not  go  forth  with  your 
colonel.  I  wish  to  confront  you  with  Blakey — and  if  you  have 
misinformed  me  here,  it  shall  cost  you  your  commission?"  said 
the  general,  sternly. 

Major  Bliss  now  left  to  convey  the  orders  of  the  general,  and 
Gorin  slunk  also  away,  not  very  well  pleased  at  the  result  of 
his  interview.  On  arriving  at  his  tent,  he  found  his  negro,  as 
usual,  asleep.  Giving  him  a  few  hearty  kicks,  to  remind  him  of 
his  return,  he  succeeded  in  awakening  the  servant,  to  whom  he 
shouted : 

"  Wake  up,  you  black  dog— wake  up !" 

"  Yes,  massa  cap'n  Gabe's  awake!"  exclaimed  the  negro,  as 
he  slowly  raised  himself  into  a  sitting  posture. 
"  Get  up  then — get  up  and  get  me  some  grog !" 
"  Yes,  massa  cap'n,  I  will— only  it's  all  gone." 
"All  goDo,  you  bloody  nigger!    What  do  you  mean?    I  left 
ten  gallons  :n  that  cask  there !"  said  Gorin,  pointing  to  a  cask 
at  the  back  of  his  tent. 

"  Yes,  massa  cap'n,  but  soger  tief  come  and  bore  um  hole  in 
de  cask,  behind  de  odder  eend,  and  let  out  all  de  red  eye." 

"  Perdition  I  Fooled  and  cheated  on  all  sides !  But  I've  got 
you  yet,  you  bloody  thief!  why  didn't  you  keep  awake  and 
watch  it?"  cried  the  enraged  officer,  dtirtins:  upon  the  poor 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  43 

black,  and  administering  blows  heavy  enough  to  fell  an  ox,  on 
his  head  and  shoulders. 

The  poor  fellow  was  now  thoroughly  awakened,  and  bound 
ing  to  his  feet,  made  for  the  door  of  the  tent,  out  of  which  he 
was  springing,  when  he  came  butt  up  against  a  person  who  was 
about  tu  enter,  and  both  met  with  a  concussion  which  laid  each 
upon  the  flat  of  his  back. 

"  Golly  gosh !    What  a  thumper  dat  be !"  cried  the  negro. 

"  Caramba !  Mil  diablos !"  shouted  the  other,  as  soon  as  he 
could  regain  his  breath ;  and  then  Gorin  recognized  the  voice 
of  Vicentio,  his  Mexican  guide. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  here?  Our  expedition  has  failed 
— she  lives  yet.  What  more  do  you  want  ?"  cried  Gorin,  as  he 
saw  the  man  who  stood  before  him. 

"  You  pull  a  spider's  web  to  pieces  once,  twice — even  three 
times,  and  he  spins  it  again  and  catches  his  game!"  responded 
the  Mexican.  "  Do  you  give  up  because  you  have  failed  once  ?" 

"No,  I'll  be  burned  if  I  do!  But  what  can  be  done  now? 
She  is  safe  with  Urrea." 

"  Safe !"  and  the  assassin  laughed  as  he  repeated  the  word. 
"  Safe !  were  she  in  the  centre  of  ten  thousand  times  his  force, 
she  would  not  be  safe  if  I  were  after  her.  But  you  do  not  want 
her  slain?" 

"  No,  not  if  she  can  be  brought  to  me  alive;  but  if  not,  let  her 
die.  Her  brothers  must  die !"  . 

"  Why  do  you  hate  them  so  ?"  And  again  the  Mexican's 
eyes  expressed  that  singular  look  of  curiosity  which  we  noted 
in  his  first  interview  with  Gorin. 

"  That  is  my  business ;  they  are  old  enemies  of  mine,  and  they 
must  be  got  rid  of.  But  I'm  tired  to-night;  come  tomorrow, 
and  I'll  see  you  on  this  matter.  Your  pass,  as  my  guide,  will 
pnss  you  safely  through  the  camp." 

Without  answering,  the  Mexican  left  the  tent,  and  Gorin,  be 
stowing  another  kick  on  the  negro,  who  had  again  gone  to 
sleep  without  arising  from  the  spot  where  he  had  been  knocked 
down,  turned  to  his  grass  hammock,  which  hung  at  the  back  of 
his  tent,  and  lying  down,  was  soon  in  a  state  as  comfortable  as 
that  of  the  negro. 


44  THE    VOLUNTEER. 


CHAATER  YIII. 

URBEA  IN  HIS  "  BAG  OF   FLOWEKS." 

ONE  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  the  world,  I  think,  is  a  little 
valley  or  basin  in  the  mountains,  a  short  way  to  the  south  of 
Presquera,  called  by  the  natives  of  that  portion  of  Mexico, 
"  El  Bolsa  de  Flares,"  or,  the  bag  of  flowers.  Well  and  aptly 
was  it  named,  for  here  flowers  ever  bloomed— the  orange,  liine, 
agricarte,  clabella  and  magnolia  vied  in  their  rich  hues  and 
varied  perfumes;  while  the  banks  of  a  rapid  little  brook  were 
shaded  by  tall  forest  trees,  whose  roots  afforded  hiding-places 
for  thousands  of  silver-scaled  fishes,  which  drew  beneath  their 
shade  whenever  the  face  of  man  was  mirrored  in  the  waters. 

The  valley  was  small ;  it  might  be  half  a  mile  square,  perhaps, 
and  save  in  spots  where  little  groves  had  sprung  up,  was  covered 
with  fine  green  grass,  which,  like  an  embroidered  carpet  was 
interspersed  with  beautiful  flowers.  On  all  hands,  save  at  the 
narrow  entrance,  the  gray  mountains  rose  in  rugged  majesty — 
their  upper  cliffs  so  mingling  with  the  clouds,  that  the  uplook- 
ing  eye  could  not  distinguish  between  them.  The  lower  part 
of  the  mountains  was  covered  with  vines  and  shrubbery,  but  as 
the  height  increased,  so  more  bare  became  the  rocks,  until  all 
was  naked,  cold,  desolate. 

Pardon  the  digression,  reader;  but  is  it  not  thus  with  rising 
man,  sometimes— nay,  often  ?  While  he  is  lowly,  his  heart  is 
full  of  the  flowers  of  beauty  and  goodness;  but  as  he  rises  in 
wealth  and  fame,  as  he  begins  to  become  elevated  among  his 
fallows,  the  flowers  fade  and  wither.  The  higher  he  gets,  the, 
colder  grows  his  atmosphere,  until  at  last,  like  the  cold,  gray 
barren  mountain  side,  he  stands  alone,  in  his  lofty  grandeur, 
without  one  warming  principle  in  his  bosom;  majestic,  but 
lu-arth-ss;  grand,  but  not  pleasing;  in  short,  a  very  monument 
of  ingratitude. 

But  returning  to  our  scene— the  valley  was  chosen  by  General 
TJrrea  for  his  head-quarters,  and  here,  a  few  days  after  we  last 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  45 

He  had  chosen  it,  because  its  narrow  entrance  could  be  easily 
guarded  from  surprise,  and  easily  defended  from  attack,  and  also 
because  water  and  pasture  were  convenient,  and  a  good  place 
afforded  for  drilling  his  troops.  Here  he  erected  his  standard, 
from  here  he  sent  forth  his  recruiting  officers,  with  orders  to 
use  every  endeavor  to  collect  men,  so  that  once  more  he  might 
take  the  field  against  the  enemy. 

He  had  a  few  tents,  but  the  greater  part  of  his  force  biv 
ouacked  iu  the  open  air,  which  is  little  hardship  in  a.  clime  so 
mild  and  genial  as  that.  In  one  of  these  tents  Anita  Urrea 
and  Edwina  Canales  were  quartered,  and  near  there  was  the 
stately  marquee  of  the  general.  Edwina  had  not  again  resumed 
her  male  attire,  although  she  still  held  her  commission  in  the 
regular  army.  This  may  appear  singular  to  many  of  our  read 
ers  ;  but  there  have  been  many  instances  of  the  kind,  one  of 
which  we  will  mention :  The  wife  of  President  Gamarra,  of 
Peru,  not  only  held  a  colonel's  commission  in  the  cavalry,  but 
repeatedly  led  her  regiment  into  action,  and  greatly  distin 
guished  herself  for  skill  and  bravery. 

We  will  look  into  the  tent  of  which  we  have  just  spoken,  and 
see  how  the  daughter  and  sister  of  warriors  dwell ;  perchance 
some  of  our  boudoir-loving  readers  will  shudder,  but  if  they  do, 
we  can't  help  it.  The  tent  was  set  upon  a  soft  carpet  of  grass, 
which,  as  its  long  green  blades  had  been  trampled  down,  gave 
up  a  perfume  like  that  of  new-mown  hay.  Its  furniture  con 
sisted  of  a  bed  made  of  the  same  kind  of  grass,  covered  with 
three  or  four  ponchos,  or  Mexican  blankets ;  the  saddles  of  the 
two  ladies  were  used  by  them  as  seats,  and  a  couple  of  small 
military  valises  probably  contained  their  wardrobe.  A  large 
gourd  of  water  hung  by  the  tent  post,  and  this  probably  was  all 
of  the  material  with  which  their  toilet  was  provided.  Their 
mirror  might  have  been  the  eddies  of  the  glassy  brook  whose 
murmuring  reached  their  ears;  none  other  was  in  sight.  And 
yet  we  have  seen  city  girls  dressed  far  more  slovenly  than  they, 
as  there  they  eat  conversing  upon  the  past  and  about  the  future. 

"And  so  you  do  not  now  feel  willing  to  acknowledge  that  you 
love  the  young  American,  Edwina?"  asked  Anita.  And  then, 
as  her  companion  hesitated  to  answer,  she  added:  "I'm  sure 
gratitude  alone  should  impel  you  to  love  him !  Twice  has  he 
saved  your  life  and  honor,  and  indeed  he  is  handsome !  It  is 
well  that  Bonaventura  won  my  love  ere  I  saw  him." 

"  Dear  Anita,  I  have  other  things  to  think  of  beside  love.    I 


46  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

have  dark  and  deadly  wrongs  to  avenge— and  think  you  I  can 
love  a  countryman  of  those  who  have  wronged  me  and  mine  ? 
No  I  Mexico  has  gained  in  our  family  no  common  friends— we 
are  wedded  to  her  cause,  not  that  we  love  her,  but  that  we  hate 
her  enemies !" 

So  wild  and  vehement  was  the  maiden's  manner,  as  thus  she 
spoke,  that  Anita  started  back  in  surprise,  exclaiming  : 

"  Maldita,  ainigo  mia!  One  would  think  you  were  a  tigress, 
to  hear  you  talk,  instead  of  the  dear,  good  girl  you  are.  But  it 
is  so  strange  to  me  that  you  can  avoid  falling  in  love  with  that 
young  officer.  He  Is  handsome,  brave,  honorable ;  and  I  am 
sure  he  loves  you  I" 

"What!  think  you  so,  indeed?"  exclaimed  Edwina,  with  a 
tone  which  betrayed  an  interest  she  had  forgotten  to  conceal. 
And  then,  while  her  cheeks  reddened  with  blushes,  she  added : 
"  No,  no  I  I  hope  not,  for  his  own  sake.  We  shall  yet  meet  as 
foes  {  I  feel  it  but  too  surely,  for  all  things  now  are  dark  be 
fore  me." 

"  No,  not  so.  Peace  will  soon  come ;  you  will  then  meet  this 
hero  of  yours — he  will  woo — you  being  woman,  can  be  won — 
and  then  the  romance  will  end,  as  good  novels  do,  in  matrimony 
and  bliss !" 

"  Peace  !"  echoed  the  other.  "  Peace !  When  will  there  be 
peace  in  this  distracted  country  now?  Never,  never!  The 
Americans  have  got  a  foothold  here— they  have  seen  how  rich 
and  beautiful  is  the  land  they  invade— and  think  you  that  now 
they  will  give  it  up  ?  No,  they  will  not ;  nor  will  the  Mexicans, 
while  one  drop  of  Spanish  blood  runs  in  their  veins,  let  them 
rest  here.  I  see  nothing  but  war— war  to  the  knife,  before  us ! 
Think  you  that  it  will  be  bloodless  ?  No,  the  best  blood  of  both 
nations  will  run  out  upon  the  battle  grounds.  Neither  he  nor 
1  will  see  the  end  of  this  war— why  should  I  love  him  ?" 

"Why,  Edwina?" 

"Yes,  why?" 

"  Because  if  it  had  not  been  for  him,  both  your  power  of 
hating  and  loving  had  ere  this  been  destroyed." 

"  True,"  replied  the  other,  thoughtfully ;  "  but  let  us  change 
the  subject."  And  then  the  two  maidens  arose  and  went  forth 
from  the  tent. 

As  they  stepped  out  beneath  the  shade  of  the  great  tree 
against  which  their  tent  was  pitched,  a  blast  of  bugles  came 
sweepinsr  on  tha  wind  nr,  *K«  ^M™  ,~j  *t™ 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  47 

of  cavalry  enter  the  gorge  and  come  up  at  a  rapid  trot.  Above 
them  the  green  and  yellow  lance  permons  fluttered,  which  de 
noted  them  to  be  Mexicans,  and  as  they  approached  nearer, 
Edwina's  eyes  grew  brighter,  and  she  cried: 

"  It  is  Licencio,  my  brave  brother!" 

It  was  indeed  he  and  his  wild  rancheros ;  and  as  he  saw  his 
sister,  who  stood  waving  her  white  scarf,  he  drove  his  spurs 
into  his  horse's  flank,  and  at  full  speed  dashed  up  to  her  side. 
Without  touching  stirrup  or  rein,  he  bounded  to  his  feet  and 
pressed  her  tenderly  to  his  breast. 

"  My  noble  sister!"  was  all  that  then  he  said,  and  her  reply — 
"  Dear  brother !"  was  equally  as  expressive  of  the  full  heart's 
affection,  which  needs  no  words  to  tell  its  depth  OF  strength. 

As  he  again  pressed  his  lips  to  his  sister's  brow,  a  hearty, 
good  natured  voice  at  his  back  caused  him  to  turn  anc[  salute 
General  Urrea.  The  latter  advanced,  and  as  he  grasped  his 
hand,  exclaimed : 

"  Welcome,  my  brave  Canales — welcoine  to  my  camp!  I'd 
rather  see  thee  here  than  a  hundred  lances.  Thou  alone  wert 
worth  them  all  to  me." 

"  1  thank  you,  general,"  replied  the  other,  and  was  about  to 
say  more,  when  a  young  officer,  who  had  been  writing,  as  the 
pen  in  his  hand  indicated,  in  the  tent  of  the  general,  rushed 
out,  exclaiming: 

"  Surely  I  heard  my  brother's  voice!  O,  Licencio,  have  you 
come  ?" 

The  embrace  of  the  brothers  was  even  as  warm  as  had  been 
that  of  the  sister  and  brother,  and  it  was  moments  before  the 
conversation  between  Urrea  and  the  older  Canales  was  renewed. 
When  it  was,  they  two  seated  themselves  at  the  trunk  of  the 
tree,  while  the  young  lovers  wandered  up  along  the  bank  of  the 
little  stream.  Edwina  remained  standing  near  the  two  former. 

"  What  force  have  you  here  ?"  asked  Canales  of  the  other,  as 
soon  as  they  were  seated. 

"About  one  thousand,  all  told;  but  we  are  sadly  off  for  pro 
visions,  and  our  musketeers  have  not  over  twenty  rounds  of 
ammunition." 

"All  this  I  can  remedy." 

"  How  ?    Have  you  stores  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  took  a  wagon  train  a  short  time  ago.  It  will  be  here 
to-night." 


48  THE    VOLUNTEER. 

"That  Is  good  lews,  indeed!  Canales,  in  thee  our  country 
has  a  noble  friend— our  foes  a  bitter  enemy." 

'•  You  flatter  me,  general." 

"No,  sir— it  is  your  own  actions  that  flatter  you.  Your 
name  is  heard  everywhere." 

"As  what  ?  As  an  assassin  and  a  robber !"  retorted  the  other ; 
and  his  tone  was  bitter  as  he  spoke.  "  Yes,  I  am  forced  with  a 
paltry  band  of  unpaid,  unclothed  rancheros,  to  maintain  the 
dignity  of  a  general's  nominal  commission.  Let  the  republic 
give  me  an  army,  and  then  I  would  soon  see  if  my  name  might 
not  be  linked  with  more  glorious  deeds  than  midnight  scouts 
and  petty  ambuscades !" 

"  It  shall  be  yet,  my  friend,"  cried  the  other,  as  he  warmly 
grasped  the  ranchero's  hand.  "  I  am  now  raising  an  army,  and 
soon,  with  your  help,  we'll  have  a  force  beside  us  with  which 
once  more  we  can  face  the  northern  foe,  and  then — " 

"  You  will  conquer  or  die,"  cried  Edwina,  who  had  been 
breathlessly  listening  to  the  conversation.  "  Say,  Licencio,  is 
it  not  so?" 

•'  Yes,  sister,  so  shall  it  be,"  replied  the  other. 

At  this  instant  the  attention  of  the  party  was  attracted  by  a 
single  Mexican,  who,  dressed  like  the  common  peasantry  of  the 
•  country,  but  well  and  heavily  armed,  rode  toward  them  rapidly, 
coining  from  the  direction  of  the  open  country. 

"  It  is  my  spy— one  whom  I  keep  hovering  about  the  enemy's 
cainp,  to  watch  his  motions,"  said  Urrea,  as  he  saw  the  rider. 

"  I  have  seen  him  before,  surely,"  said  Canales.  "  O,  yes,  it 
is  Vicentio  Jarueta— one  of  my  old  followers,  and  a  good 
soldier." 

It  was  indeed  Vicentio,  whom  the  reader  has  already  met  as 
a  plotter  with  Gorin. 

Throwing  himself  from  his  horse,  he  bowed  low  before  the 
generals,  and  still  lower  before  the  lady. 

"  Well,  what  news,  good  Vicentio?"  asked  Urrea. 

"Much,  senor  general.  The  enemy  are  getting  stronger 
every  day,  and  preparing  to  go  forward.  An  advance  guard 
has  already  gone  on  to  Saltillo." 

"  Well,  let  him  go  on.  He  will  be  easier  crushed  when  he 
gets  among  the  mountains." 

44  Heard  they  of  the  loss  of  a  wagon  train  before  you  left?" 
inquired  Canales. 

"  Yes,  senor,  and  the  loss  is  heavy  to  them.    The  general  has 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  49 

despatched  a  body  of  rangers  after  yon,  General  Canales.  He 
says  that  you  have  broken  the  truce,  and  has  ordered  them  to 
take  yon,  if  they  can." 

"  Which  way  have  they  gone  ?"  asked  the  guerrilla  chief, 
calmly. 

"  To  the  northward." 

"  Then  they  have  gone  on  a  wild  goose  chase,  for  I  am  done 
with  the  north  at  present." 

"  Does  the  general  know  a  Texan  named  Gorin?"  now  asked 
the  spy  of  Canales. 

"Gorin!  a  flend  in  human  shape!  Yes;  what  of  him,  and 
why  do  you  ajsk  ?" 

"He  has  only  given  me  five  hundred  dollars  for  promising  to 
kill  you !"  replied  the  spy  in  a  calm,  quiet  tone. 

"And  you—"  T 

"  Promised,  of  course,  and  got  my  advance !  I  will  give  him 
his  receipt  for  it  when  again  we  meet.  I  took  his  money,  gen 
eral,  because  I  wanted  it,  and  I  wanted  to  know  why  he  hates 
you  so.  He  is  useful  to  me  in  the  camp.  You  know  me  too 
well  to  doubt  me,  or  fear  that  I — " 

"  I  fear  nothing,  Vicentio,"  replied  the  other.  "  But  leave 
this  Gorin  to  me;  I  have  an  account  of  long  standing  to  settle 
with  him.  If  he  can  be  taken  alive  and  brought  to  me,  I  will 
well  reward  you." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  general,"  replied  the  other. 

Then  turning  to  the  lady,  he  added : 

"And  you  are  one,  too,  whom  he  hates,  lady." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  Vicentio,"  replied  the  other.  And  then 
she  seemed  about  to  ask  a  question,  but  paused  as  it  was  upon 
her  lips. 

"  Where  is  he  now — has  he  gone  northward  with  the  ran 
gers  ?"  asked  Canales. 

"  No,  senor;  he  is  detained  as  a  witness  against  a  captain  of 
Kentucky  riflemen,  who  is  accused  of  treason  and  of  leaguing 
with  you,  General  Urrea. 

"His  name?  what  is  his  name?  is  it  he?"  cried  Edwina, 
hastily. 

"  His  name  is  Blakey,  lady,"  replied  the  soldier. 

"Accused  of  treason?  This  is  for  rescuing  me  and  your 
daughter  from  Gorin's  hands!"  cried  Edwina  to  Urrea.  Then 
turning  to  the  spy,  she  asked,  "  When  does  his  trial  ensue?  is 
he  in  danger?" 


50  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

"  His  trial  is  to  come  off  very  soon.  Gorin  and  his  men  are 
nee  against  him,  and  I  heard  that  his  doom  was  certain," 
replied  the  spy. 

"  Brother— General  Urrea,  this  must  not  be  I"  cried  Edwina. 
"  This  noble  man  is  in  peril,  for  having  done  his  duty  as  a  man 
in  protecting  helpless  females  from  insult  and  death !" 

"  What  can  we  do  ?  He  is  an  enemy.  Surely,  it  is  little  to 
us  what  his  doom  may  be,"  replied  Urrea,  calmly. 

"  It  may  be  little  to  you ;  it  is  all  to  me.  I  request  from  you, 
a  letter  to  General  Taylor,  describing  this  whole  affair.  He 
shall  not  be  condemned !"  cried  the  excited  girl. 

"  Who  will  bear  it?"  asked  the  general. 

"  Edwina  Canales,  captain  in  the  army  of  the  republic." 

"  My  own,  my  noble  sister,"  cried  Canales,  who  till  now  had 
been  a  silent  listener,  "  I  love  the  generous  spirit  which  prompts 
this  act,  but  another  messenger  can  be  despatched!  I  like  not 
to  have  you  so  exposed." 

"  What  one—who  is  there  that  will  be  faithful  and  speedy?" 
asked  she,  as  her  dark,  searching  eye  was  bent  upon  him. 

"  Roberto,  my  body  servant.    He  would  die  for  you  or  me." 

The  maiden  paused  a  moment — then  seeming  contented, 
said: 

"  General,  please  write  that  letter  for  me.  I  have  one  to  pre 
pare  also.  Have  Roberto  ready,  brother ;  I  will  send  him  in  an 
hour.  This  Gorin  shall  meet  his  match." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  COURT  MARTIAL. 

WHKN  the  spy,  Vicentio,  said  that  the  trial  of  Blakey  was 
soon  to  ensue,  and  that  his  danger  was  imminent,  he  spoke 
truly.  On  the  very  next  morning  after  the  scene  in  our  last, 
that  trial  commenced. 

A  military  court-martial  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  strikin^ 

nes  in  the  world.    All  of  the  officers  save  him  who  is  to  be 

ned,  are  dressed  in  their  full  uniforms,  their  swords  by  their 

faS  and  surrounded  by  military  paraphernalia.    The  prisoner 

is  without  his  weapon.    Before  each  member  of  the  court 

e  writing  materials;  each  member  wears  a  still  and  solemn 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  51 

aspect,  for  here  things  are  conducted  far  differently  from  those 
courts  where  a  parcel  of  chattering  lawyers,  seeming  to  be 
afflicted  with  a  diarrhoea  of  words,  fight  and  squabble  over  the 
points  of  law,  as  hungry  dogs  do  over  some  half  picked  bone. 
.  Here  men  of  honor  sit  down  calmly  to  investigate  and  decide 
upon  that  which  gives  to  their  brother  soldier  deep  and  lasting 
disgrace,  or  restores  to  him  his  doubted  honor,  that  honor 
winch  to  a  soldier  is  life,  ay,  ten  thousand  times  more  than  life. 

On  the  occasion  to  which  we  refer,  the  court  was  composed 
of  the  elder  officers  at  head  quarters.  General  Taylor  was  not 
present;  his  duties  and  inclinations  both  prevented  it.  When 
Blukey  was  called  before  the  court, his  charges  were  read,  spec 
ifying,  among  other  things  of  a  treasonable  nature,  that  on  the 
night  which  we  have  already  recorded,  he  did  interfere  upon 
the  side  of  the  Mexicans,  against  his  own  countrymen,  and  res 
cued  prisoners  of  the  enemy,  who  had  been  taken  by  American 
troops  in  battle,  and  that  he  had  held  treasonable  and  friendly 
communication  with  Urrea,  a  general  in  the  Mexican  army. 

When  called  upon  to  answer  to  this  charge,  with  his  eyes 
flashing  indignantly,  he  answered,  "  Not  guilty!" 

The  judge  advocate  then  summoned  as  a  witness  to  the  stand, 
Captain  Gorin,  of  the  Texan  Rangers.  The  witness  advanced, 
his  face  flushed  apparently  with  excitement,  and  took  the  pre 
scribed  oath  to  give  true  evidence,  in  a  voice  which,  though 
thick  and  husky,  evidently  trembled.  It  seemed  strange,  too? 
that  he  avoided  meeting  the  eye  of  the  prisoner. 

On  being  sworn,  he  gave  in  his  evidence  thus.  He  said  that 
he  had  been  ordered  by  the  general-in-chief  to  follow  Blakey, 
and  to  observe  his  motions — 

"  Stop  a  moment,  if  you  please,  sir.  I  have  a  question  to  ask 
here,"  said  one  of  the  members,  one  in  whom  the  reader  will  be 
pleased  to  recognize  Major  Bliss;  "  Did  you  not  request  Gen 
eral  Taylor  to  permit  you  to  follow  Captain  Blakey  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  responded  the  witness,  evidently  displeased  at  the 
interruption. 

"Did  you  not  give  some  information  to  General  Taylor, 
which  alarmed  him  in  regard  to  the  prisoner,  and  did  you  not 
recommend  that  he  should  be  followed  and  watched?"  again 
asked  his  interrogator,  sternly. 

"  I  told  the  general  of  a  conversation  which  I  had  overheard 
between  the  prisoner  and  a  messenger  from  a  fair  lady  who  was 
with  the  enemy." 


02  TUB  VOLUNTEEB. 

"  The  members  will  please  note  this  acknowledgment.  The 
witness  may  now  proceed  with  his  story,"  said  Major  Bliss, 
with  a  tone  full  of  meaning. 

With  a  voice  less  confident  than  before,  Gorin  now  went  on 
to  say  that,  in  obedience  to  his  orders,  he  had  set  out  upon  the 
trail  of  the  prisoner;  that  on  the  evening  in  question,  he  was 
attacked  by  a  party  of  the  enemy;  that  he  not  only  defended 
himself  but  slew  seven  or  eight  of  them,  and  took  three  prison 
ers,  one  of  whom  was  an  officer  of  importance  and  a  brother  to 
Canales  the  ranchero ;  and  that  soon  after  he  was  himself  at 
tacked  by  Blakey,  who  rescued  the  prisoners  from  him,  and 
who  was  closely  followed  by  General  Urrea  and  a  whole  regi 
ment  of  lancers." 

"  Who  were  these  prisoners  ?"  demanded  Major  Bliss,  sternly. 

"  Captain  Canales,  his  sister,  and  a  daughter  of  Gen.  Urrea." 

"  Who  gave  you  orders  to  capture  women  ?" 

"  They  were  in  company  with  the  officer." 

"  Have  you  never  seen  any  of  them  before  ?" 

"  I  saw  one  of  them  fighting  like  a  tigress  when  we  took 
Monterey." 

"  Have  you  no  cause  of  personal  enmity  to  the  prisoner?" 

"  None  in  the  world,  if  he  be  true  to  our  country,"  replied  the 
hypocritical  villain. 

"  What  has  the  prisoner  to  say  to  this  charge  and  evidence  ?" 
now  asked  the  judge  advocate.  * 

"  That  it  is  partially  false !"  replied  Blakey,  calmly. 

"Partially?"  echoed  Major  Bliss;  "  in  what,  sir,  is  it  true, 
and  in  what  false  ?" 

"  It  is  true,  sir,  that  on  the  evening  in  question  I  found  yon 
villain  maltreating  a  helpless  female;  a  wounded  officer,  her 

>ther,lay  upon  the  ground;  beside  him  lay  a  helpless  girl, 

1  Edwina  Canales,  the  heroine  of  Monterey,  was  defending 

•  helpless  brother  and  friend  against  yon  fiend.    He,  the 

thing  who  calls  himself  a  man,  had  raised  his  arm  against  a 

nan,  ay,  had  nearly  succeeded  in  crushing  her  but  too  feeble 

nee,  when  I  arrived  upon  the  ground.    I  did  strike  the 

i  to  the  earth,  I  did  rescue  the  helpless  whom  he  had 

;ed.    He  however  speaks  falsely  when  he  says  that  they 

tUackedhim     He  broke  the  flag  of  truce-he  with  twenty 

en  attacked  this  little  band  of  ten,  attacked  them,  as  I  know, 
R±  TT°f  deStr°*iQg  or  <*Pturiug  the  lady  whose  name 

ime  already  mentioned,  against  whom,  I  know  not  how  or 


THE  VOLUNTEEB.  53 

why,  he  has  proved  himself  a  bitter  enemy.  I  met  General 
Urrea,  I  met  him  as  it  becomes  a  soldier  and  a  man  of  honor  to 
meet  another  during  a  time  of  truce.  Yon  varlet  was  hooted 
from  the  presence  of  the  general,  hence  his  jealousy  of  myself." 

At  this  moment  a  messenger  came  in  and  whispered  some 
information  to  Major  Bliss.  The  latter,  requesting  to  be  ex 
cused  a  moment,  left  the  tent.  Meanwhile  the  court  seemed  to 
debate  upon  the  case  of  the  prisoner,  and  it  need  not  be  won 
dered  that  some  of  them  were  much  against  him. 

However,  after  a  few  moments'  absence,  Major  Bliss  returned, 
and  proceeded  with  the  examination.  Calling  upon  the  pris 
oner,  he  asked : 

"  Is  there  any  truth  in  the  statement  of  the  witness,  that  you 
received  a  messenger  from  the  lady,  before  you  started  on  your 
scout?" 

"  None,  upon  my  honor." 

"  Your  meeting  with  her  was  purely  accidental  ?" 

"  Purely  accidental  and  providential,"  answered  Blakey. 

"  Very  accidental,"  said  Gorin,  with  a  sneer;  "will  he  say 
upon  his  honor  that  that  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  her  on 
that  day  ?" 

"  I  had  seen  her  pass  my  ambuscade  on  that  road  not  ten 
minutes  before  the  attack,"  replied  the  accused,  "  but  was 
unseen  by  her ;  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  firing,  I  followed 
after  them,  and  arrived  in  time  to  rescue  her  from  the  unhal 
lowed  grasp  of  yon  wicked  villain !" 

"  A  very  likely  story,  is  it  not,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Gorin,  with 
a  sneer,  in  which,  however,  he  showed  too  much  of  his  owu 
feeling  to  do  him  any  good  before  the  court. 

Major  Bliss  now  turned  to  him  and  asked:. 

"  What  part  of  Texas  do  you  belong  to,  Captain  Gorin  ?" 

"  The  western." 

"  Do  your  parents  reside  there?" 

"  I  have  none,  sir;  they  died  while  I  was  a  babe ;  but  I  don't 
see  what  bearing  these  questions  have  on  this  case,"  replied 
Gorin,  whom  the  question  evidently  nettled. 

"  It  may  have  a  decided  bearing  on  your  evidence,  sir,"  re 
plied  Bliss,  "  and  I  have  yet  more  to  ask.  Did  you  ever  know 
one  Helen  Vicars,  in  Texas  ?" 

Gorin  started  as  if  a  serpent  had  bitten  him,  when  he  heard 
this  question,  and  replied,  in  an  angry  tone: 

"  I  stand  here  as  witness  against  that  traitor,  Blakey.    I  an- 


54  TUB  VOLUNTEER. 

swer  questions  regarding  his  case.  None  others  will  I  respond 
to." 

"  Sir,  you  will  answer  all  questions  here  propounded  to  you," 
replied  the  president  of  the  court,  sternly. 

"  Again  I  ask,  did  you  ever  know  Helen  Yicars  ?"  said  Major 
Bliss. 

"  I  believe  that  there  was  a  girl  of  that  name,  who  resided  in 
my  neighborhood  some  years  ago,  a  girl  of  bad  repute  I"  replied 
the  other,  in  a  tone  of  assumed  carelessness. 

"  Villain !  of  whom  do  you  speak  ?"  said  a  voice  clear  as  the 
note  of  a  flute,  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  Gorin  turned  pale 
and  trembled  from  head  to  foot  as  he  turned  and  beheld  the  tall 
form  of  Edwina  Canales,  who,  in  her  maiden's  dress,  had  that 
moment  entered  the  tent. 

So  pure,  so  queenly  and  beautiful  did  she  look,  that  the 
members  of  the  court  involuntarily  arose  to  their  feet,  and 
gazed  respectfully  toward  her,  while  she,  with  her  face  lighted 
up  in  all  the  brilliancy  of  angry  excitement,  continued : 

"  Behold  how  he  trembles  as  he  faces  me  with  a  lie  yet  upon 
his  guilty  lips !  I  am  Helen  Vicars — I  am  themaidenwho.se 
fame  he  would  dare  attempt  to  stain.  I  am  Helen  Vicars,  and 
there  stands  the  base  murderer  of  my  gray-haired  parents !  the 
attempted  murderer  of  myself  and  brothers — the  villain  who, 
failing  in  all  attempts  to  win  my  love,  became  a  deadly  foe,  who 
has  wronged  me  and  miue  to  the  utmost  of  his  power. 

"  Now  hear  my  evidence  in  this  case — we,  that  is,  my  younger 
brother,  Anita  Urrea  and  myself,  were  riding  peaceably  along 
the  road,  relying  upon  the  truce  of  eight  weeks  for  our  protec 
tion;  we  were  met  by  yon  villain,  attacked,  our  escort  slain, 
and  the  result— (Heaven  only  knows  what  it  would  have  been), 
I  was  depending  alone  upon  my  weak  arm,  when  that  noble 
American  who  is  now  a  prisoner  before  you,  rescued  us  from 
perhaps  a  fate  worse  than  death.  And  now,  upon  my  honor, 
this  and  this  only  was  all  of  treason  that  can  be  laid  to  the 
prisoner's  charge !" 

The  court,  carried  away  by  the  vehemence  of  her  manner, 
had  not  looked  toward  Gorin  during  her  remarks,  but  now  as 
their  eyes  turned  toward  him,  they  saw  him  standing  there  as 
pale  as  if  death  was  in  his  heart. 

44  What  have  you  now  to  say?"  said  Major  Bliss  to  Gorin. 

At  flrat  the  deep-dyed  villain  made  no  answer,  then  said  in 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  55 

tones  so  thick  and  husky  that  they  could  be  scarcely  under 
stood: 

"  She  speaks  falsely !    She  is  the  sister  of  Canales." 

"  Yes,  I  am  the  sister  of  Licentio  Canales,  and  if  you  will  add 
the  name  of  Yicars  to  it,  you  will  have  the  name  of  one.  whom 
you  knew  but  too  well  in  Texas.  One  whom  you  and  your 
Regulators  drove  to  this  country,  where  even  now  he  might, 
had  it  not  been  for  you,  have  been  dwelling  in  peace  on  his  own 
soil." 

Every  word  and  look  of  Gorin  now  testified  his  guilt,  and  the 
court,  disgusted  with  his  unmasked  villany,  at  once  put  a  stop 
to  the  proceedings.  Blakey's  sword  was  restored  to  him  amid 
the  congratulations  of  the  officers,  while  the  false  witness  en 
deavored  to  slink  away  and  leave  the  spot.  He  had,  unob 
served,  reached  the  door  of  the  tent,  when  a  short,  thick,  plainly 
dressed  officer  appeared  before  him,  whose  presence  seemed 
anything  but  agreeable  to  him. 

"  Stand  back,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  who  held  two  letters  in 
his  hand,  and  was  none  other  than  old  Rough  and  Ready — 
"  stand  back,  sir,  I  want  to  look  into  this  matter.  Here  is  a 
letter  from  General  Urrea,  who  puts  a  very  different  construc 
tion  on  your  conduct,  as  also  that  of  Captain  Blakey,  from 
which  you  represent,  and  here  is  a  letter  from  a  lady,  which,  if 
true,  makes  you  a  villain  that  Satan  himself  would  kick  out  of 
the  infernal  regions !" 

Major  Bliss,  hearing  the  general's  voice,  now  stepped  forward 
and  said : 

"  Captain  Blakey's  innocence  has  been  proved,  general,  and 
the  crime  of  perjury  is  stamped  upon  yon  scoundrel's  brow!" 

"Then  let  him  be  struck  from  the  roll  of  the  arm}7,"  replied 
the  noble  old  general,  and  while  his  high  brow  was  clouded 
with  a  withering  frown,  he  turned  to  the  villain  and  said  : 

"  I  give  you  two  hours,  sir,  to  leave  my  camp.  If  after  that 
time  you  are  in  its  borders,  beware  of  the  punishment  that  shall 
follow." 

Without  one  word  in  answer — his  face  black  with  mortifica 
tion  and  anger,  the  villain  turned  from  the  tent.  As  he  stepped 
out  he  saw  two  horses  standing  there,  held  by  a  young  negro; 
one,  from  the  saddle  upon  it,  a  courser  of  jet,  symmetrical  and 
beautiful  in  form,  was  evidently  the  steed  of  the  Mexican  1  uly ; 
the  other  was  the  pony  always  rode  by  Roberto,  the  faithful 


,-fl  Till-:   VOLUNTEER. 

The  boy  grinned  as  he  saw  Gorin  come  forth,  with  a  face  so 
clouded,  and  by  his  manner  showed  that  he  had  seen  him  be 
fore.  Gorin  hastened  to  his  tent,  where  he  found  his  negro  as 
usual,  asleep.  With  a  few  kicks  he  soon  brought  him  to,  and 
astonished  him  by  bidding  him  pack  up  his  duds  and  get  ready 
to  clear  out. 

"Wharbe  we  gwoin,  massa  cap'n  ?"  asked  the  negro. 

"To  perdition,  for  all  I  know!— come,  be  lively,  pack  up  my 
things  for  a  march,"  replied  Gorin,  in  a  fierce  tone. 

"  Massa  go  dere  if  he  like,  but  dis  child  don't  want  to,"  re 
plied  the  negro  to  himself,  and  hurried  to  obey  his  orders. 

Within  an  hour  Gorin  had  left  the  camp,  no  one  knowing  or 
oaring  which  way  he  bent  his  steps.  His  negro  was  his  only 
friend  and  companion. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A  DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 

Wmim  an  hour  after  the  favorable  issue  of  the  trial  of 
Blakey,  Edwina  Canales  was  mounted  upon  her  horse  prepara 
tory  to  returning  to  the  camp  of  General  Irrrea.  Blukey  having 
applied  for  and  obtained  permission  to  escort  her  a  short  dis 
tance,  was  also  mounted  on  the  horse  which  she  had  presented 
to  him,  and  together  they  rode  forth,  the  young  negro  following 
at  a  respectful  distance. 

"You  must  not  think  me  bold  or  indelicate,  senor,  for  thus 
venturing  to  your  camp,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  heard  that  you 
were  involved  in  a  difficulty  caused  by  my  rescue  from  that 
bold,  bad  man,  and  I  could  not  refrain  from  coming  to  be  a 
witness  in  your  behalf.  I  first  intended  only  to  write— and 
then  I  thought  that  it  were  better  for  me  to  go  in  person." 

"  I  cannot  speak  my  gratitude,  lady;  I  feel  but  too  much  the 
kindness  which  has  prompted  you  to  take  this  trouble  and  risk 
upon  yourself." 

"Speak  not  of  gratitude,  senor;  it  is  myself  that  should  most 
be  grateful.  Twice  have  you  saved  my  life—" 

"  \nd  in  so  doing  have  only  performed  my  duty  as  a  man." 

u  Such  duties  as  few  men  would  have  done,  senor,  and  duties 
that  I  shall  never,  never  fornet ."  renlied  the  maiilon.  w«rmlv. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  57 

The  young  captain  now  rode  on  some  ways  in  silence,  which 
was  broken  by  his  saying : 

"  Were  you  born  a  Mexican,  lady  ?" 

"  Yes,  senor,  I  was  born  in  the  province  of  Texas,  while  the 
Mexican  flag  waved  over  its  soil.  Yet  when  the  province 
revolted,  we  joined  not  with  the  Mexican  arms— we  became 
Texans  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word." 

"And  why  are  you  now  among  our  enemies  ?" 

"  Because  we  have  been  driven  there  by  wrong  and  oppres 
sion." 

" Canales  is  not  your  name?" 

"No — it  was  our  mother's  name — we  have  assumed  it  here. 
You  have  heard  my  right  name;  it  is  Helen  Vicars." 

"  O,  lady,  there  are  many  things  which  I  would  wish  to  ask, 
and—"  v 

"  Which  I  cannot  now  answer.  My  history  is  strange,  too 
strange  for  reality,  yet  I  cannot  reveal  it  to  you." 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  Gorin  ?  He  seems  both  to  fear 
and  hate  you." 

"  He  has  cause  to  fear  me — I  have  cause  to  hate  him.  Yet  I 
cannot  tell  you  why,  more  than  that  he  was  once  a  suitor  for 
my  hand.  I  refused  his  hateful  attentions,  and  from  that  time 
he  became  an  enemy  to  me  and  my  house. 

"  My  parents  offended  him  by  forbidding  his  visits — he  was 
in  command  of  a  party  of '  Regulators,'  a  clan  who  made  them 
selves  the  law-givers  and  enforcers  of  the  country,  and  he 
warned  us  to  leave  the  farm  which  we  owned,  in  twenty-four 
hours.  My  parents  would  not  do  this — the  consequence  was 
that  the  house  was  burned  over  their  heads.  My  father  tried  to 
resist — he  was  slain;  my  mother,  too,  was  killed  by  a  blow 
which  with  her  own  breast  she  warded  off  from  her  fallen, 
husband's  form.  My  brothers  were  not  at  home.  I  fled  on  the 
first  attack,  and  succeeded  in  escaping  and  meeting  my 
brothers.  We  were  pursued  by  this  Gorin  and  his  band  to  the 
banks  of  the  Neuces.  The  river  at  the  time  was  swollen  into 
an  immense  Hood  by  the  rain,  and  we  attempted  to  cross  it  in  a 
frail  canoe.  The  canoe  was  leaky  and  rotten,  and  filled  with 
us  in  the  midst  of  the  foaming,  rushing  waters.  For  a  time  we 
struggled  in  the  river,  my  brothers  supporting  me,  drifting  out 
of  sight  of  our  pursuers,  who,  I  afterwards  learned,  thought  us 
drowned. 

"  We,  however,  succeeded  in  landing  on  the  southern  shore; 


58  THE   VOLU^TEEB. 

and  afterwards  joined  ourselves  to  a  party  of  rancheros  or 
hrnlsmen,  who  have  become  much  attached  to  my  brother,  and 
have  made  him  their  chosen  leader.  Thus  much,  and  too  much 
of  my  history  have  I  revealed  to  you — I  can  no  more." 

"  But,  lady,  this  Gorin  is  now  abroad— I  fear  that  he  will  yet 
seek  your  life.  Would  to  heaven  that  I  had  slain  him  when  we 
met  the  other  night !" 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  did  not.  His  punishment  is  for  my 
hand— he  will  yet  cross  my  path." 

"  I  hope  not,  lady,  for  he  is  a  fiendish,  cruel  foe !" 

"  You  seem  to  take  a  strange  interest  in  my  fate,  senor." 

"  Why  should  I  not,  lady  ?  You  are  brave  anci  beautiful — ay, 
more,  you  are  a  patriot,  such  as  my  soul  loves.  O,  lady,  would 
to  God  you  were  not  an  enemy  I" 

"  I  surely  am  not  your  enemy,  senor." 

"  No— yet  still  are  we  foes.  The  banners  under  which  we 
serve,  are  flung  out  upon  the  breath  of  the  war-storm.  Lady, 
O  let  me  beseech  you  to  retire  from  a  further  participation  in 
the  war." 

"  Why,  senor?  my  brothers  are  engaged  in  it,  they  are  ever 
in  danger ;  it  were  worse  than  death  to  me  not  to  be  near  them." 

"  Would  that  I  was  a  brother  to  you,  lady." 

"  Why  make  you  that  wish,  senor  ?  Perhaps  it  is  better  not," 
said  the  lady,  archly. 

"  I  make  the  wish,  lady,  because  I  would  ever  be  near  to 
protect  and  guard  you." 

"And  yet  we  are  enemies,"  said  the  lady,  doubtingly. 

"  Yes,  lady,  but  I  have  a  remembrance  of  reading  in  a  very 
wise  and  good  book,  the  precept  that  we  must  love  our  enemies." 

"And  you  would  practise  the  precept  ?" 

"  In  your  case,  lady,  I  would.  It  is  useless  longer  for  me  to 
dissemble  my  feelings.  I  love— I  madly,  wildly  love  you !" 

"  Senor,"  responded  the  lady,  sadly,  "  I  am  sorry  for  this.  I 
am  proud  that  you  should  deem  me  worthy  of  your  thoughts, 
but  you  see  how  we  both  are  placed— it  is  indeed  madness  to 
love  me." 

The  manner  of  the  lady  until  now,  except  when  speaking  of 
her  history,  had  been  light  and  gay— but  now  it  was  sad  and 
mournful. 

"  Lady,  though  it  be  madness— though  it  were  even  death,  I 
sannot  help  it,  I  love  you.  O,  is  my  love  to  be  unrequited? 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  59 

must  I  not  hope  for  love  in  return?    Speak,  and  let  me  hope, 
or  crush  me  with  your  coldness." 

The  hand  of  the  lady  trembled,  tears  rolled  silently  down  her 
rich-lined  cheeks,  and  though  words  seemed  to  tremble  on  her 
lips,  still  she  spoke  not.    She  seemed  to  be  stifled  with  thoughts 
too  heavy  for  utterance. 
Again  young  Blakey  spoke: 

"  Lady,  you  surely  could  not  have  taken  all  of  this  interest  in 
my  fate,  without  some  feeling  for  me.  O,  say  that  I  possess 
your  love,  and  yet  we  will  meet  in  happiness.  This  war  may 
not  last  long." 

"  It  may  last  longer  than  either  of  us  shall  live,"  responded 
the  lady ;  and  then  she  added,  "  let  us  not  speak  of  love  now. 
I  am  taking  you  too  far  from  your  camp.  In  yon  little  ravine 
ahead  of  us,  my  escort  awaits  me.  It  is  better  that  we  part. 
It  is  madness  for  us,  situated  as  we  are,  to  think  of  love !" 

"  O,  not  so,  lady;  if  it  is,  let  me  be  mad.  O,  set  my  heart  at 
rest  before  we  part ;  either  give  me  hope,  or  let  me  know  the 
worst." 

The  lady's  smile,  though  still  sad,  was  brighter,  as  she  turned 
her  large,  black,  tearful  eyes  toward  him.  She  was  about  to 
answer,  when  the  young  negro  rode  rapidly  up,  and  spoke  two 
3r  three  words  in  Spanish  to  her,  at  the  same  time  pointing  to  a 
;ittle  hill,  a  few  rods  to  their  left,  on  the  crest  of  which  sat  one 
Dn  horseback,  who  seemed  to  regard  the  movements  of  the 
3arty  with  no  common  interest.  As  he  saw  their  eyes  turned 
oward  him,  he  shook  his  clenched  hand  toward  them,  and 
ieemed  as  if  he  was  about  to  ride  down  and  attack  them,  but  on 
seeing  the  lady's  escort  of  lancers  ride  forth,  fifty  strong,  to 
neet  her,  he  again  shook  his  threatening  hand,  and  dashed  off 
it  full  speed  to  the  southward.  This  person  was  Gorin. 

"  You  see  your  enemy  and  mine,"  said  the  lady,  as  she 
>ointed  toward  him.  "  Beware  of  him — he  is  cunning — treach 
erous — bloodthirsty — fiendish  in  all  things." 

"  I  fear  not  for  myself,  lady,  but  for  .you." 

"  I  can  defend  myself,"  replied  she,  haughtily.  "  I  fear  not  a 
ian  who  treads  the  earth  I" 

"  Lady — we  shall  join  your  escort  in  a  few  moments — again  I 
eseech  from  you  one  cheering  word." 

"  It  would  be  cruel,  senor,  if  I  were  to  speak  of  hope  when 
lere  is  none.  All  is  darkness  before  me.  Why  should  I  involve 
on  in  it?" 


QQ  Till:   VOLUNTEER. 

"All  is  light  to  me  whore  you  are!" 

"Senor,  how  can  it  be?  You  love  your  country,  you  serv* 
it  with  your  life— and  yet  I  am  among  her  foes." 

"  O,  cease  to  be  a  foe.  Return  with  me  to  my  native  land 
I  will  wed  you,  and  take  you  to  a  father  and  mother  who  fo 
my  sake  will  love  you  dearly." 

''What,  senor!  would  you  now,  after  you  have  drawn  you 
blade  in  this  war,  thus  leave  the  field,  and  those  with  when 
your  honor  is  linked  ?" 

"  No,  lady.  No,  I  could  not.  The  love  I  bear  for  you  almos 
maddens  me,  yet  even  it  cannot  make  me  forget  my  duty." 

" Now  I  love  you;  you  are  indeed  a  soldier  and  a  man! 
cried  the  beautiful  girl;  "enemy  though  you  be,  I  will  lov 
you,  and  should  we  ever  meet  in  peace,  then  may  we  be  happj 
Now  we  must  part." 

"  Must  we  part  thus  in  the  first  moment  of  joy?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  best.  Let  us  both  strive  to  do  our  duty.  I  sha 
joy  to  hear  that  you  become  distinguished ;  if  you  fall,  I  wi 
follow  you." 

"And  can  we  not  meet  again  ?" 

"  I  fear  when  next  we  meet,  it  will  be  on  the  battle-field.  ^ 
great  and  decisive  battle  must  soon  be  fought.  I  shall  be  ther< 
I  know  you  will.  Meet  where  we  may,  we  will  meet  as  friends. 

"As  lovers,  rather,"  sadly  responded  the  young  officer,  reinin 
in  his  horse  at  her  request. 

"  You  will  wear  this  scarf  for  me,"  said  Edwina,  as  she  too 
a  white  scarf  from  her  shoulder;  "it  will  aid  me  to  distinguis 
you  if  we  meet  amid  the  clouds  of  battle." 

"  It  will,  and  you—" 

"  Have  yet  the  band  of  silver  lace,"  replied  the  other. 

The  lady  now  presented  him  her  hand,  which  he  raised  to  h 
lips  and  warmly  kissed,  then  again  they  exchanged  their  lov- 
toned  adieus,  and  separated. 

Edwina  rode  rapidly  off  to  the  westward  to  meet  her  escor 
Blakey  returned  slowly  and  sadly  to  his  camp.  He  was  in  lov 
he  had  just  heard  that  his  love  was  reciprocated — how  sing 
larly  were  the  two  lovers  situated.  Both  were  surrounded  1 
perils,  greater  than  either  dreamed  of. 

As  Blakey  rode  back  he  ascended  the  hill  where  but  a  fe 
moments  before  he  had  seen  Gorin,  and  looked  over  the  su 
rounding  country  in  hopes  to  learn  the  direction  which  he  h; 
taken.  But  it  was  useless,  he  could  nowhere  discover  hi 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  61 

This  seemed  strange,  too,  for  the  country  was  very  open,  and 
save  a  few  groves  and  small  chapparals,  was  quite  clear  from 
obstructions  to  the  view. 

Gorin  at  this  moment  was  concealed  in  a  grove  close  by,  in  a 
spot  where  he  plainly  saw  Blakey,  but  he  had  reasons  for  not 
being  seen  by  the  latter.  It  was  his  intention  to  lurk  about  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  camp  until  night.  He  had  the  countersign 
which  had  been  given  to  all  of  the  officers  commanding  compa 
nies,  and  knew  that  he  could  get  into  the  camp  if  he  wished. 
Besides,  he  expected  again  to  meet  Vicentio  in  the  vicinity. 

Speaking  of  the  latter,  makes  it  proper  that  we  bring  him 
again  before  the  reader.  When  Donna  Edwina  reached  her 
escort,  this  man  was  the  first  to  ride"  forth  to  meet  her. 

"  How  has  your  errand  sped,  noble  lady  V"  asked  he. 

"  Well.  The  prisoner  is  saved— Gorin  is  disgraced  and  driven 
from  the  camp." 

"  Know  you  which  way  he  has  gone  ?" 

"A  few  minutes  since,  he  was  on  the  top  of  yonder  hillock, 
even  where  that  brave  but  imprudent  American  has  ridden," 
replied  the  lady,  gazing  at  Blakey,  who  now,  however,  after 
looking  in  vain  for  his  enemy,  rode  toward  the  camp. 

"  I  must  watch  him — I  shall  make  use  of  him  for  a  little  time, 
and  then  he  is  reserved  for  revenge,"  said  the  spy,  while  his 
dark  eyes  gleamed  like  those  of  an  angry  serpent. 

"  Whatever  you  do,  watch  over  the  life  and  welfare  of  the 
American  who  rides  now  toward  the  camp.  Let  the  life  of 
Captain  Blakey  be  as  dear  to  you  as  my  brother's !  Twice  has 
he  saved  mine." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  lady,"  said  the  spy  respectfully,  and 
now  bowing  low  to  her,  he  rode  out  from  the  escort,  and  took  a 
direction  which  would  lead  him  around  the  hill  of  which  we 
have  several  times  spoken,  and  at  the  same  time  in  the  direction 
of  the  spot  where  he  had  before  met  Gorin. 


52  THE  VOLUNTEER. 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE  WARNING.— THE  TOKEN. 

WHEN  Vicentio,  the  spy,  left  the  escort  of  Donna  Edwina,  he 
rode,  as  we  before  said,  slowly  away  in  a  direction  which  took 
him  around  to  the  southward  of  the  hill.  He  had  not  ridden 
fur  before  he  came  to  a  small  grove  of  mountain  oaks  which 
stood  near  the  hill  which  he  was  about  to  pass,  when  a  sharp 
whistle  to  his  right  caused  him  to  draw  his  rein. 

It  was  repeated  in  a  moment  after,  and  then  he  recognized 
it  as  the  peculiar  signal  generally  used  by  Gorin.  He  at  once 
turned  his  steed  toward  the  grove,  which  he  had  penetrated  but 
a  short  distance  when  he  was  met  by  Gorin.  The  appearance 
of  the  latter  was  strangely  changed,  since  the  spy  had  last  met 
him.  His  face  was  pale  as  the  white  ashes  of  the  camp-fire ; 
his  eyes  were  like  two  living  coals  of  fire.  His  voice  was  husky 
and  deep  in  its  tone,  as  he  addressed  the  spy : 

"  You  have  seen  her—she  who  calls  herself  Edwina  Canales, 
she  whom  you  have  promised  me  to  get  rid  of,  have  you  not  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have  just  left  her." 

"And  she  has  told  you  all — told  you  how  I  have  been  dishon 
ored  for  the  sake  of  one  whom  she  is  making  a  fool  of— she  has 
told  you  all  this?" 

"All,"  replied  the  spy,  in  his  usual  quiet  tone. 

"Curse  her!  She  is  the  cause  of  it;  why  have  you  let  her 
live  so  long?" 

"  Her  time  hasn't  come,  yet." 

a  You  have  been  paid  for  her  life— why  do  you  not  fulfil  your 
promise  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  not  yet  had  a  chance.  Be  patient,  bide  your 
time,  and  your  side  of  fortune's  wheel  will  come  up  again." 

"  Patience !  preach  patience  to  women— men  have  nought  to 
do  with  it" 

"Yet  men  must  have  to  do  with  it,"  replied  the  other,  and 
then  added,  "  You  are  out  of  employment  now,  which  way  do 
you  wend  your  course  ?" 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  .  63 

"Which  way?  To  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  Ay,  when 
General  Taylor  insulted  me,  he  placed  a  nettle  in  his  path, 
which  yet  shall  prick  him  to  death.  I  shall  go  at  once  to 
General  Santa  Anna." 

"Why  not  to  Urrea?  I  can  get  you  a  commission  under 
him,"  replied  the  spy,  in  a  tone  of  singular  softness. 

"  Because  he  is  the  friend  of  that  wretch  who  calls  himself 
Canales.  I  wish  not  to  meet  him  at  present." 

"  What  is  the  quarrel  between  you  and  Canales  ?" 

"  O,  nothing  but  an  old  grudge ;  I  have  met  him  before,  and 
he  insulted  me." 

"And  for  nothing  but  an  old  grudge — a  half-forgotten  insult, 
you'd  have  him  killed.  You  are  indeed  a  bitter  enemy,"  said 
the  spy,  in  a  tone  which  should  have  excited  a  suspicion  in  the 
ranger  that  the  spy  was  no  friend  to  his  intentions,  but  he 
seemed  not  to  heed  or  understand  it,  replying: 

"  He  must  be  put  out  of  my  way." 

"  Why  do  you  hate  his  sister  so  ?"  again  asked  the  spy. 

"  Hate  ?  I  hate  her  because  she  gave  me  hate  for  love,  when, 
like  a  whining  fool,  I  knelt  at  her  feet  and  prayed  for  her  to 
smile  upon  me.  I  have  loved  her,  O,  how  have  I  loved  her ! 
She  spurned  me  like  a  dog  from  her  feet,  and  think  you  I  will 
bear  this?  No!  by  all  that  is  sweet  in  revenge,  no  I" 

"  You  think  she  loves  this  Blakey,  do  you  not  ?" 

"  Think  ?  No,  I  know  it,  else  she  would  not  have  come  here 
to  ruin  me  and  save  him.  But  he  shall  pay  for  it — this  night 
he  dies." 

"  Dies  ?    How,  by  whose  hand  ?" 

"  By  my  own !  I  have  the  countersign,  I  can  pass  unknown 
to  his  very  tent." 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  the  Mexican,  carelessly. 

The  ranger  eyed  him  for  a  moment  distrustfully,  then  seem 
ing  to  be  satisfied,  answered,  "  Virtue." 

*"That  must  be  a  favorite  word  with  the  American  com 
mander,"  replied  the  spy,  audibly;  then  added  in  an  under  tone 
only  audible  to  himself,  "  I  wonder  it  don't  choke  you  to  speak 
it." 

"  Well,  about  our  other  matters,"  said  Gorin,  "  when  will  you 
get  me  rid  of  those  enemies  ?" 

"As  soon  as  I  can,"  replied  the  spy,  "  but  I've  other  work  on 
hand.  I  want  to  know  if  more  reinforcements  have  come 


ft|  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

"  Yes,  I  will  give  you  the  number  in  the  morning.  To-night 
I  shall  be  busy;  but  I  wish  to  see  you  to-morrow." 

"  Where?" 

••  Here,  or  anywhere  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  camp." 

"  Then  let  it  be  here— at  sunrise." 

The  two  parted,  the  spy  riding  off  still  further  to  the  south 
ward.  The  gray  of  twilight  soon  came  over  the  earth,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  dark  to  conceal  his  motions  from 
(inrin,  the  spy  turned  his  horse  to  ward  the  American  camp,  and 
da-hing  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks,  drove  him  up  to  hi* 
speed.  It  was  about  an  hour  after  dark  that  Blakey,  while  sit 
ting  in  his  tent,  perhaps  thinking  of  the  wildwood  home  he  had 
It-It,  and  of  his  dear  old  father  and  mother;  or  perchance  think 
ing  of  her  whom  he  had  so  lately  learned  to  love,  was  told  by 
an  orderly  that  a  man,  apparently  a  Mexican,  wished  to  see 
him. 

"Admit  him,"  replied  Blakey,  supposing  it  to  be  one  of  the 
guides  or  native  laborers  in  the  employ  of  the  camp. 

In  a  moment  Vicentio  entered,  and  as  he  appeared  armed  to 
the  teeth,  and  was  anything  in  appearance  but  the  tame  .slave 
who  did  the  menial  duties  of  the  camp,  Blakey  started  from  his 
seat,  asking,  as  he  looked  at  his  visitor  with  a  searching  eye : 

"  Who  are  you  sir,  and  what  want  you  here  ?" 

"  When  Captain  Blakey  is  alone,  I  will  tell  him,"  replied  the 
spy,  looking  at  the  orderly  that  lingered  in  the  doorway  of  the 
tent. 

Blakey  made  a  sign  for  the  soldier  to  withdraw,  and  then 
repeated  his  question. 

"A  friend,  who  wants  to  save  your  life,  for  the  sake  of  Edwina 
Canales." 

"A  friend,  who  uses  that  name?    Who  are  you  ?" 

"  Vicentio  Jarueta,  at  your  service,  a  soldier  of  the  republic 
of  Mexico." 

"  How  did  you  gain  admittance  to  the  camp  ?"  * 

"By  < virtue'  of  the  countersign,"  replied  the  other,  in  a 
meaning  tone. 

"The  countersign!  you  have  it,  by  what  means?" 

1  The  means  that  informed  me  that  your  life  was  in  danger." 

"  My  life  in  danger  ?  You  spoke  of  that  before.  Explain  all 
of  this  mystery." 

"  You  have  an  enemy." 

"  I  presume  so—a  good  many  of  them.    I  hope  so  at  least,  for 


THE    VOLUNTEER.  65 

I  never  knew  a  man  that  was  good  for  anything  that  didn't 
have  them." 

"  You  have  one  who  will  try  to  assassinate  you  this  night." 

"  Who— Gorin  ?" 

"  You  have  named  him." 

"He  is  banished  from  the  camp.    How  can  he  return  to  it?" 

"  His  *  virtue,7  like  mine,  will  pass  him  by  the  sentinels." 

"  Has  he  the  countersign  ?" 

"  From  him  I  got  it — from  his  own  lips  I  gained  the  knowledge 
that  he  intended  to  assassinate  you  this  night." 

**  Who  are  you,  that  you  should  take  this  trouble  to  inform 
me  of  my  danger  ?" 

"  One  who  would  die  to  serve  the  sister  of  my  chief,  Licencio 
Canales,  and  she,  when  I  parted  from  her,  bade  me  guard  your 
life  if  ever  I  found  it  in  danger.  I  love  you  not — I  hate  your 
nation,  but  I  love  and  serve  her,  and  as  you  see  have  obeyed  her 
last  request." 

"  You  are  a  noble  fellow — take  this  in  acknowledgment  for 
your  kindness,"  said  Blakey,  reaching  toward  him  a  purse 
apparently  well  filled- 

"  Vicentio  Jarueta  needs  no  reward  for  doing  his  duty.  He 
only  receives  pay  when  he  does  some  great  villany." 

"  You  are  a  strange  man — is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you?" 

"  Yes.  When  Gorin  comes  here  to-night  to  kill  you,  avoid 
him,  but  do  not  detain  him,  I  want  him  in  the  morning." 

"  You  want  him  ?  your  request  is  strange — why  do  you  want 
him?" 

"  Donna  Edwina  may  tell  you  some  day,  senor,"  responded 
the  spy,  drily;  "  may  it  be  as  I  request?" 

"  It  shall.  I  will  keep  out  of  his  way,  and  fool  him  in  some 
way." 

"  I  thank  you.  Now  give  me  a  token  for  the  lady,  that  sshii 
may  know  that  I  have  seen  you." 

The  young  officer  took  the  bowie-knife  from  his  belt,  and 
with  its  keen  edge  severed  one  of  the  long  locks  of  hair  from  his 
head,  saying,  "  let  this  be  your  proof." 

The  spy  bowed,  and  the  next  moment  was  out  of  hearing. 

The  moment  he  was  gone,  Blakey  turned  his  attention  to 
preparing  a  trap  to  astonish  his  enemy.  He  took  some  clothes 
and  formed  a  figure  of  a  man,  then  placed  it  in  such  a  way  as 
to  have  it  appear  like  himself  asleep  with  his  back  turned 


05  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

toward  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  covering  It  with  his  blankets 
as  usually  he  did  himself.  He  then  placed  his  light  so  as  to  cast 
that  portion  of  the  tent  somewhat  in  the  shade,  after  which  he- 
weut  out  and  told  the  orderly  that  he  had  no  further  need  of 
his  services  that  night.  The  soldier  he  sent  away,  that  Gorin 
might  have  no  interruption  in  his  visit.  Then  having  prepared 
everything  as  he  wished  it,  he  hid  himself  behind  some  old 
rubbish  in  the  back  of  the  tent. 

He  had  remained  here  on  the  watch  until  after  midnight,  and 
began  to  grow  tired  of  his  vigil,  and  think  that  his  enemy  had 
given  ovef  his  fiendish  design,  when  a  very  slight  noise  was 
heard  at  the  back  of  the  tent,  close  by  his  side — so  near  as 
almost  to  touch  him.  Scarce  daring  to  breathe  for  fear  of  being 
discovered,  he  awaited  the  next  movement.  Soon  the  huge, 
shaggy  head  of  Gorin  was  seen  peering  up  from  beneath  the 
tent  cloth,  looking  eagerly  toward  the  spot  where  he  supposed 
Blakey  to  be  sleeping.  The  villain,  not  knowing  that  the 
orderly  had  been  sent  away,  had  taken  this  mode  of  entrance  to 
avoid  alarming  him,  and  now  cautiously  crept  through,  cutting 
a  rip  in  the  tent  large  enough  to  let  his  body  pass  easily. 

As  soon  as  he  got  through,  he  arose  cautiously  with  all  the 
malignancy  of  a  venomous  serpent,  he  examined  the  edge  of 
his  huge  knife,  and  then  crept  cautiously  toward  his  supposed 
victim.  He  reached  a  spot  where  he  was  within  striking  dis 
tance  of  the  figure,  and  then  paused,  as  if  to  regain  steadiness, 
for  his  whole  frame  trembled  with  excitement. 

Gorin,  black-hearted  as  he  was,  was  not  a  coward,  yet  he 
trembled  now.  It  was  hard  even  for  him  to  strike  a  sleeping 
foe,  but  at  last  he  raised  his  knife,  and  while  he  drew  in  his 
breath,  struck  with  a  strong  and  steady  hand  the  blow  which 
he  thought  would  send  his  victim  to  eternity.  The  knife  was 
buried  to  the  hilt  in  the  bundle  of  clothes.  Gorin  had  had  too 
much  experience  in  the  way  in  which  a  knife  walks  into  human 
flesh,  not  to  know  that  he  was  fooled,  and  with  a  low,  bitter 
urse,  he  drew  the  bundle  of  rags  from  its  place,  and  in  the 
impatience  of  his  rage  again  and  again  dashed  his  knife  into 

"  How  could  he  have  had  a  suspicion  of  this  ?    Could  he  have 

1  an  attack  from  me?  or  is  this  some  trick  of  his,  to  get 

•way  from  inspection?"  said  Gorin,  in  soliloquy;  then  as  if  fear 

it  he  might  be  watched  or  in  danger,  he  hurried  from 

the  spot,  by  the  same  way  he  came. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  67 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A.  GENERAL  INSPECTION  OF  CHARACTERS. 

SOME  days  have  elapsed  since  the  night  of  our  last  chapter, 
and  all  the  actors  in  our  scene  have  changed  ground.  We  will 
pay  them  a  visit,  reader.  First  to  the  interview  with  Santa 
Anna,  at  San  Luis  Potosi,  which  gives  to  Gorin  a  captain's 
commission  in  the  Mexican  array. 

Gorin,  after  the  failure  of  his  attempt  to  add  Blakey  to  the 
number  of  his  victims,  had  made  his  way  with  all  despatch  to 
the  head-quarters  of  the  Mexican  general;  his  dark  appearance 
and  perfect  command  of  the  Spanish  language  enabled  him  to 
pass  easily  through  the  country,  he  having  adopted  the  dress  of 
the  natives.  On  entering  the  presence  of  Santa  Anna,  the  keen 
black  eye  of  the  latter  was  fixed  upon  him,  and  while  he  kept 
his  look  steadily  upon  his  face,  he  asked : 

"  Where  are  you  from,  and  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"I  am  a  deserter  from  the  American  camp ;  I  come  to  offer 
my  services  where  they  will  be  properly  appreciated." 

"A  deserter  I    Why  have  you  left  your  countrymen  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  been  wronged  and  insulted.  Because  I  wish 
to  be  revenged  upon  them." 

The  general  narrowly  watched  the  expression  of  the  speaker's 
face,  impelled  by  suspicion;  but  the  tone  in  which  this  was 
uttered,  and  the  almost  fiendish  look  which  accompanied  it, 
seemed  to  satisfy  him,  for  he  replied : 

"  If  you  have  been  injured  by  your  ungrateful  countrymen, 
you  shall  soon  have  ample  opportunity  for  revenge." 

"  I  shall  improve  it,"  replied  the  stranger,  speaking  in  Spanish 
so  pure  that  his  interrogator  noticed  it,  and  remarked : 

"  You  speak  our  language  passing  well ;  are  you  not  Spanish 
born?" 

"  I  was  brought  up  in  Texas,  in  a  Spanish  settlement;  it  was 
therefore  the  language  of  mv  early  childhood." 


(J3  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

The  face  of  Santa  Anna  grew  darker  as  Texas  was  mentioned. 
The  word  seemed  to  have  an  unpleasant  jar  on  his  ear,  but  he 

replied : 

"Then  we  have  a  double  claim  upon  your  services.  What 
was  your  rank  in  the  army  which  you  have  left?" 

"  Captain." 

44  Then  you  shall  now  have  the  same  here.  I  have  a  full  com 
pany  of  deserters,  mostly  Irish,  German  and  French  Catholics; 
you  shall  have  command  of  them,  and  if  your  conduct  shall 
merit,  promotion  and  honors  shall  be  your  own." 

"  Give  me  but  a  chance,  general,  and  let  my  conduct  prove 
me,"  replied  Gorin. 

44  You  shall  soon  have  it,"  replied  the  other.  "  Within  twenty 
days  I  will  crush  Taylor  and  his  insolent  army.  I  have  now 
seventeen  thousand  men — within  a  week  I  shall  certainly  have 
from  three  to  five  thousand  more." 

44  You  will  need  them  all ;  General  Taylor  is  a  horse !"  said 
Gorin. 

"A  what?"  cried  the  general,  unused  to  the  slang  terms  so 
much  in  use  upon  our  borders. 

44A  man  that  is  not  easily  whipped,  but  if  you  have  a  force  of 
twenty  thousand  men,  you  ought  to  eat  him  up." 

"  I  will  meet  him  with  at  least  that  number  before  the  month 
is  out,"  replied  the  general,  and  then  adding,  "  You  will  receive 
your  commission  in  the  morning,"  dismissed  his  visitor. 

Thus  we  have  followed  Gorin  into  treason,  and  now  we  will 
hunt  up  some  more  of  our  friends. 

The  "  Bolsa  de  Flores,"  where  we  left  General  Urrea  en 
camped,  was  deserted  at  the  time  when  the  above  interview 
took  place,  by  all  of  the  troops  save  a  small  party  of  foot  soldiers, 
who  were  left  to  act  as  a  guard  to  the  daughter  and  wife  of 
General  Urrea,  who  were  left  here  by  him,  who  did  not  wish 
them  to  be  placed  nearer  to  danger,  which  must  have  been  the 
case  if  they  had  followed  his  army.  Edwina  Canales  had  been 
there  too,  but  on  the  night  of  the  very  day  on  which  the  army 
left,  she,  donning  her  male  attire  and  attended  by  Vicentio,  had 
started  for  San  Luis  Potosi,  where  the  main  force  of  the  Mex 
ican  army  was  gathering.  This  she  had  done,  in  spite  of  the 
tears  and  entreaties  of  poor  Anita,  who,  woman  as  she  was, 
could  not  appreciate  the  feelings  which  prompted  her  stern 
companion  to  face  the  perils  and  share  in  the  excitements  of 
active  service.  As  on  the  evening  she  sat  by  her  mother's  side, 


THE   VOLUNTEEIi.  69 

poor  Anita  felt  sadly  lonesome,  though  were  the  truth  known, 
she  probably  missed  the  brother  of  Edwina  more  than  she  did 
the  maiden,  and  he  probably  caused  by  his  absence  the  sighs 
which  were  so  frequently  heard  to  rise  from  her  gentle  bosom. 

And  think  you,  reader,  that  she  was  forgotten  by  him?  No ; 
and  to  prove  it,  we  will  take  one  glance  at  him  as  he  sits  in  the 
tent  of  his  general,  at  the  same  hour,  in  a  camp  about  two  days' 
march  from  San  Luis  Potosi.  He  is  engaged  at  his  writing 
desk,  making  out  his  official  orders  for  the  morrow,  for  he  is 
acting  as  aid  to  the  general,  and  these  are  among  the  many 
duties  of  his  office.  The  general  is  seated  near  him  on  his 
saddle,  which  is  laid  upon  the  ground.  He  is  engaged  in  his 
favorite  occupation,  smoking  paper  cigars,  and  giving  from 
time  to  time  the  orders,  which  his  aid  commits  to  writing. 

"  You  will  give  orders  for  your  brother's  regiment  to  lead  the 
advance  to-morrow,"  said  the  general. 

"  Yes,  senor,"  said  the  young  man,  rapidly  commencing  to 
write  the  order,  and  then  almost  as  quickly  tearing  it  up,  for  he 
had  commenced  it  thus:  "Dear  Anita,  you  will  take  the 
advance." 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  the  general,  as  he  saw  the  youth 
with  an  impatient  gesture  tear  the  paper  into  atoms. 

"  Nothing,  senor,  only  I  commenced  this  order  wrong,"  re 
plied  the  youth,  blushing,  and  proceeding  to  direct  it  as  he 
should  at  first  have  done  to  his  brother. 

We  have  only  given  this  little  incident  to  show  where  his 
thoughts  were,  and  now,  reader,  we  will  take  another  march  on 
our  round  of  inspection,  and  find  another  of  our  characters,  at 
the  same  hour.  This  one  is  Blakey,  the  decided  hero  of  our 
story. 

He  was  in  his  quarters  in  the  city  of  Saltillo,  for  already  had 
he  advanced  to  this  point,  with  the  forces  under  General  Worth. 
The  army  of  General  Taylor  was  advancing  to  the  same  point, 
and  rumors  of  Santa  Anna's  approach  were  as  thick  as  gamblers 
in  Nashville.  Blakey  knew  that  a  great  and  decisive  battle 
must  soon  be  fought,  and  knowing  as  he  did  that  she  whom  he 
loved  would  be  exposed  to  all  its  terrors,  it  need  not  be  won 
dered  that  at  this  moment  he  was  heart  deep  in  the  blues. 
Where  she  now  was  he  knew  not ;  he  had  not  heard  from  her 
since  the  night  when  he  sent  her  the  token  requested  by  Vicen- 
tio,  yet  he  felt  sure  that  she  must  be  with  Santa  Anna's  ad 
ducing  army ;  her  last  words  had  left  him  110  doubt  but  that 


70  THE  VOLUXTEEB. 

she  would  resume  her  old  position  on  the  re-commencement  of 
hostilities. 

Whatever  his  reveries  may  have  been  at  this  time  we  know 
not,  but  they  were  broken  in  upon  by  an  orderly  who  entered 
the  room  and  laid  a  document  upon  the  table  before  him.  Tak 
ing  it  up  he  read  it  aloud  to  himself.  It  was  an  order  to  start 
without  delay,  with  a  small  force,  to  reconnoitre  the  forces  of 
the  enemy,  and  to  hover  in  front  of  the  advancing  army  of 
Santa  Anna,  and  remit  reports  as  fust  as  any  change  took  place 
of  any  importance  to  our  army.  Though  it  was  night,  the 
ready  soldier  was  soon  in  the  saddle,  and  we  will  there  leave 
him  to  obey  his  orders,  while  we  look  up  one  or  two  more  of 
the  friends  in  whose  motions  we  feel  an  interest. 

It  was  at  this  very  hour  that  Edwina,  having  passed  General 
Urrea  on  his  inarch,  arrived  at  San  Luis  Potosi,  her  only  es 
cort  being  Vicentio  the  spy.  Her  dress  was  that  of  a  captain 
of  lancers,  and  she  looked  it  sufficiently  to  pass  along  in  the 
night  without  her  sex  being  discovered.  She  took  her  quarters 
up  at  a  hotel,  where,  unknown  to  her,  Gorin  was  also  stopping. 
At  the  very  hour  she  arrived,  he  had  just  returned  to  his  room 
from  his  visit  to  Santa  Anna,  and  that  room  was  next  to  the 
one  where  "  Captain  Cauales,"  as  Edwina  gave  her  name,  was 
shown. 

The  vicinity  of  Gorin  was  first  discovered  by  Vicentio,  who, 
going  to  the  stables  to  see  the  horses  attended  to  in  person, 
discovered  the  well  known  animal  which  Gorin  rode,  and  mak 
ing  inquiry  after  its  owner,  found  out  where  he  was.  The  first 
thought  of  the  spy  was  to  use  his  dagger,  the  second  was  to 
acquaint  his  lady  of  her  dangerous  neighbor's  vicinity,  which 
last  idea  he  acted  upon.  When  he  had  told  Donna  Edwina  of 
the  neighborhood  of  his  enemy,  he  proposed  that  he  should  now 
close  up  accunts  with  him,  but  she  replied: 

"  No,  Vicentio,  it  is  not -time  yet— and  I  would  reserve  the 
pleasure  for  my  own  hands." 

"  But,  lady,  he  may  discover  you." 

"No— I  shall  plead  sickness  and  keep  my  room  for  a  few 
days,  and  supposing  that  he  did,  have  I  occasion  to  fear  him  ?" 

"  No,  lady,  not  while  my  right  hand  has  strength  to  wield  a 
weapon  in  your  defence." 

"  I  need  no  defence  against  him,  Vicentio,  one  look  can  crush 
e  turned  pale  and  trembled  when  last  he  heard  my 
voice.  I  fear  him  not." 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  71 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  PLOT  DEEPENS. 

Two  days  have  passed  away  in  our  history,  and  still  again 
have  changed  the  positions  of  our  characters.  Urrea  and  Can- 
ales,  having  joined  their  forces  to  the  army  of  Santa  Anna,  have 
swelled  his  force  up  to  twenty  thousand,  and  now  he  is  ready  to 
advance  to  meet  the  northern  foe.  On  the  evening  of  the  day 
when  this  junction  was  made,  Matteo,  the  large  negro  of 
Canales,  whom  in  a  former  chapter  we  kave  placed  before  the 
reader,  entered  the  kitchen  of  the  hotel  where  Donna  Edwina 
was  stopping.  The  elder  was  accompanied  by  Roberto,  the 
younger  servant  of  Canales,  who  indeed  was  his  son. 

As  they  went  in,  they  had  cautiously  to  pick  their  way  among 
a  crowd  of  sleeping  servants  belonging  to  different  officers  who 
were  quartered  at  the  house ;  and  this  they  were  doing  by  the 
aid  of  a  light  in  the  hand  of  the  elder  negro,  when  the  latter 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  face  of  one  who  lay  with  his  hands 
nearly  in  the  ashes  of  the  huge  fireplace,  and  as  he  did  so, 
started  back  in  surprise. 

"  Look  yar,  Bob,"  said  he  to  his  son,  "  I'll  be  blessed  if  here 
aint  a  nigger  dat  we've  seen  before  I" 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  bent  down  and  took  a  closer  examination 
of  the  sleeper,  while  his  boy  also  looked  down  upon  him,  at  the 
same  time  exclaiming : 

"Yes,  sure  enough,  it's  old  Gabe,  that  Gorin  nigger,  and 
nobody  else !  I  wonder  what  he's  doing  here." 

*' "Better  wake  de  child  an'  ax  him,"  replied  the  father. 

The  younger  negro  proceeded  to  act  upon  this  advice  at 
once,  but  found  it  rather  a  difficult  matter,  for  Gabe  was  a 
capital  sleeper.  It  was  not  until  young  Roberto  had  kicked  his 
shins  pretty  heavily  eighteen  or  twenty  times,  thai  he  began  to 
show  any  signs  of  returning  consciousness,  arid  then  seeming  to 
iiincy  that  his  master  was  calling  him,  he  grumbled: 
|  "  Yes,  massa  cap'n,  I  tell  'em  so,  but  de  gol  blasted  fools  keep 


72  THE  VOLUNTEEB. 

a  sayin"no  savy  Ingles/  and  dats  all  I  can  git  out  of  'em! 
Wish  I  was  back  in  de  cornfield." 

Another  hearty  kick  across  Gabe's  shins  awoke  him  thor 
oughly,  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  looking  around,  as  his  eyes 
opened,  to  see  if  his  master  was  near.  But  when  he  saw  only 
the  two  negroes,  he  became  unusually  wrathy  all  at  once, 
exclaiming,  in  tones  exceedingly  bearish  : 

"  What  is  you  'bout  dar,  awakin'  gemplems  up  at  dis  time  o' 
night!" 

"  Gabe,  don't  you  know  me— your  ole  fren  ?"  asked  the  elder 
Ethiopian. 

"Know  you,  nigger?  no,  I  doesn't.  How  can  one  nigger 
know  anudder  when  dey  all  look  exackly  like?" 

"  But  you  mus'  know  me,  Gabe— ole  Matty,  dat  use  to  go  on 
possum  hunts  wid  you,  in  de  ole  country?" 

"  Whah  I  dat  you,  Matty  ?    Why,  what  are  you  a  doin'  here  ?" 

"Dat's  jist  de  question  dat  I  axes  you,  an'  as  I'm  de  ole  folks, 
I'se  got  de  right  to  de  first  answer !" 

"  Den  I  gibs  in.  My  massa's  turned  Mexico,  and  come  here 
to  help  Santa  Anna." 

"  Den  him  an'  my  massa  do  de  same  business.  My  massa's  a 
kurnel." 

"  Mine  is  a  cap'n." 

"  Den,  nigger,  I  ranks  you !  Have  you  got  anything  to  eat 
here?" 

"  Reckon  yes.  Jist  look  dar  at  dat  little  nigger !  he's  at  de 
grub  a  ready,"  said  Gabe,  in  answer  to  the  last  question,  point 
ing  to  the  boy,  who  had,  with  natural  intuitiveness,  found  his 
way  to  the  cupboard. 

"Dar  ar  a  fact;  dat's  my  boy,  Gabe!"  exclaimed  the  elder, 
with  an  indescribable  tone  of  parental  pride. 

"  What  I  dat  ar  little  Bobby?"  exclaimed  Gabe. 

"He  isn't  nobody  else,"  replied  the  subject  of  this  exclamation, 
as  he  returned  from  the  cupboard,  with  his  hands  full  of  bread 
and  meat. 

"  Wall,  chile,  you  is  growed  up  'stonishin'  I"  said  Gabe,  as  he 
turned  his  lesser  friend  round  with  a  quick  whirl,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  see  all  his  dimensions. 

He  then  advised  his  two  colored  brethren  to  lie  down  and 
take  a  nap,  following  his  precept  by  an  example  which  in  a 
minute  or  less  left  him  in  the  same  state  in  which  they  found 
him. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  73 

As  soon  as  Gabe  began  to  snore  again,  Roberto  turned  to  his 
father,  and  said : 

"Daddy,  I  don't  like  the  look  of  things  here.  Dis  Gabe's 
master  and  ours  is  at  dead  war !" 

"So  dey  be.  I  forget  dat.  We  oughtn't  to  ha'  been  so 
familiar  wid  dat  nigger,"  replied  the  father. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  he's  a  stupid  nigger;  he'll  forget  that  he's 
seen  us  when  he  wakes  in  the  morning.  Let's  clear  out,  and 
go  somewhere  else." 

The  elder  agreeing  to  the  proposition,  the  two  left.  It  was 
broad  day  ere  Gabe's  eyes  were  again  unclosed.  His  master 
had  received  orders  to  take  post  on  the  road  toward  Saltillo, 
and  as  was  usually  necessary,  had  come  clown  in  person  to 
wake  his  sleepy  servant.  This  he  effected  with  his  usual  means. 
When  Gabe  awoke,  he  looked  around  him,  as  if  he  expected  to 
see  some  fctmiliar  faces,  then  remarked  to  himself: 

"Den  dat  was  all  a  dream  'bout  seeing  dose  niggers  las' 
night.  It  was  de  plainest  dream  I  ever  'members." 

"What  are  you  grumbling  about?  Come,  be  lively  and 
wake  up !  We  take  a  march  this  morning,"  cried  his  master. 

"Yes,  massa  cap'n,"  replied  Gabe,  yawning;  "but  I've  had 
such  a  dream !" 

"  You  are  always  dreaming ;  but  wake  up  now — you  are 
wanted." 

"  Yes,  massa;  but  doesn't  dreams  go  by  contraries?" 

"  Hang  your  dreams !  Stir  your  stumps,  and  get  my  horse 
and  things  ready  for  the  march." 

"  Case  if  dey  does,  den  them  niggers  are  dead,  dat's  all !" 
added  the  negro  to  himself. 

And  now  being  thoroughly  awake,  he  hurriedly  obeyed  his 
master's  orders,  and  botli  in  a  few  minutes  had  left  the  hotel. 

This  early  and  fortunate  start,  although  purely  accidental, 
had  kept  Gorin  and  the  elder  Canales  from  meeting,  which 
would  probably  have  brought  our  romance  to  an  untimely 
close ;  but  fate  seemed  yet  to  defer  the  moment  when  the  villain 
was  to  receive  the  richly  merited  reward  of  his  crimes. 

During  the  two  preceding  days,  both  Yicentio  and  Edwina 
had  avoided  becoming  known  to  Gorin — the  one  by  feigning 
fcickuess,  the  other  by  a  deep  and  artful  disguise.  Now  that 
she  found  her  brother  was  here,  the  former,  fearing  that  he 
would  endeavor  to  keep  her  away  from  danger,  determined  still 
to  remain  unknown,  and  the  better  to  secure  herself,  determined 


74  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

to  leave  the  city,  and  join  the  advance  posts,  not  aware  that 
<;  i>r'm,  whom  she  knew  had  left,  had  adopted  the  same  course  by 
order  of  the  general-in-chief.  She  was  therefore  still  in  his 
dangerous  vicfnity.  Leaving  them,  we  will  now  return  to 
Blakey. 

On  receiving  his  orders,  he  at  once  set  out  upon  his  responsi 
ble  but  dangerous  and  unpleasant  duty.  The  first  two  days  of 
his  ride  gave  out  no  adventure  of  any  interest;  but  on  the  third 
day  he  found  that  he  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  advancing 
posts  of  the  enemy,  and  now  began  his  time  for  danger  and 
excitement.  He  had  assumed,  so  far  as  he  could,  the  disguise 
of  a  Mexican,  he  was  furnished  with  a  Mexican  guide,  and  he 
had  disguised  his  small  force  as  much  as  possible. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day,  after  having  passed  numer 
ous  small  bodies  of  the  enemy  during  the  day,  narrowly  escap 
ing  discovery,  he  arrived  at  a  small  place  called  Salado,  on  the 
main  road  to  San  Luis.  There  was  but  one  posada  in  the  town, 
and  to  this  he  bent  his  course  and  applied  for  quarters,  which  he 
found  obtainable. 

He  had  always  accustomed  himself  to  attending  to  the 
grooming  of  his  horse  himself,  and  to  seeing  that  the  noble 
animal  was  properly  cared  for,  and  on  this  occasion  followed 
the  hostler  to  the  stable.  It  was  night,  and  quite  dark;  but  as 
he  entered  the  stable,  he  heard  a  voice  singing  the  familiar  old 
air  of  "  Gumbo  Jim,"  which  he  thought  he  recognized  as  ono 
he  had  heard  before.  Pausing,  he  listened  for  a  moment  longer 
and  then  remembered  where  he  had  before  heard  it,  and  he 
knew  then  that  he  was  in  the  vicinity  of  Gabe,  Gorin's  servant 

On  cautiously  advancing  in  the  direction  whence  he  heard 
the  voice,  he  soon  saw  by  the  light  of  a  lantern  which  hung 
near  him,  that  the  negro  was  engaged  in  rubbing  down  his 
master's  horse,  which  bore  the  marks  of  travel. 

He  was  revolving  in  his  mind  what  steps  to  take,  when 
another  comer  appeared  in  the  scene,  whom  he  perhaps  might 
not  have  recognized,  had  not  a  noble-looking,  coal-black  horse, 
which  he  led,  given  a  neigh  of  recognition  which  was  answered 
by  his  own.  One  glance  at  the  Mexican  who  led  the  horse,  and 
ie  recognized  Vicentio.  Dangerous  as  it  was  for  him  to  become 
known,  he  could  not  refrain  from  laying  his  hand  upon  the  spy's 
arm  as  he  was  passing,  at  the  same  time  whispering  «  be  silent  1" 
as  he  pointed  to  the  negro. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  75 

The  spy  started  as  he  felt  the  touch,  and  then  recognizing 
the  American,  paused  and  glanced  toward  the  negro,  whom 
also  he  seemed  to  recognize,  for  in  a  low,  hissing  tone  of  anger, 
he  exclaimed : 

"  Caramba  I    Is  that  dog  always  to  be  in  our  way  ?" 

"Where  is  your  mistress?  is  she  here?"  asked  Blakey, 
eagerly. 

"  She  has  just  come ;  but  it  will  not  do  for  her  to  tarry  here, 
unless  I  make  yonder  darkie  a  free  man,  by  cutting  his  master's 
throat !"  responded  the  spy. 

"  I  must  see  her !  lead  me  to  her  at  once,"  replied  Blakey, 
not  noticing  the  allusion  to  the  necessity  for  the  death  of  Gorin. 

"  Is  it  prudent  ?  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  Do  you  know 
that  you  are  surrounded  by  our  advancing  troops  ?" 

*'  I  care  not — I  must  see  her !"  replied  the  other,  in  a  tone  by 
far  too  earnest  and  loud  for  safety. 

"  I  will  tell  her  that  you  are  here,  but  remember  that  now  she 
is  Captain  Canales !"  replied  the  spy,  at  the  same  time  fastening 
his  horse  beside  that  of  Blakey,  and  then  returning  toward  the 
posada. 

The  loud  tone  in  which  Blakey  spoke  had  reached  the  ear  of 
one  to  whom  his  voice  seemed  unpleasantly  familiar.  Gorin 
himself  was  on  the  way  to  the  stable,  but  when  he  heard  that 
voice,  and  then  heard  another  which  he  thought  he  recognized, 
he  paused,  and  creeping  cautiously  along  in  the  dark,  came 
unobserved  to  a  spot  whence  he  could,  by  the  dim  light  of  the 
lantern,  get  a  view  of  their  faces.  As  he  recognized  them,  a 
fiendish  smile  gathered  upon  his  face,  and  in  a  low,  fiendish 
whisper,  he  hissed : 

"  So  both  are  here,  and  in  my  power.  Now  my  time  has 
come — both  are  in  my  power !" 

He  almost  held  his  breath,  as  they  passed  him  on  the  way  to 
the  house;  and  they  had  no  sooner  gone,  than  he  hurried  off  to 
the  quarters  of  his  men  to  detail  a  force  to  carry  out  the  inten 
tions  which  he  had  so  quickly  formed.  Meantime,  Blakey  was 
already  in  the  presence  of  her  he  loved. 

"O,  holy  mother!  what  means  this  rash  exposure?  Why  are 
you  here,  senor — here,  within  our  very  lines?"  asked  Edwina, 
in  a  tone  of  deep  sorrow,  as  she  warmly  returned  the  embrace 
of  her  lover. 

'*  There  is  no  danger  that  I  would  not  face,  to  have  the 
happiness  of  meeting  you,"  replied  he. 


70  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

"O,  what  is  that  pleasure,  when  compared  to  the  clanger  you 
run  here !  This  is  not  the  danger  or  the  glory  of  a  battle-field ; 
if  you  are  discovered,  the  death  of  the  spy  would  be  your  fate." 

"Ay,  by  heaven,  she  has  spoken  your  doom !"  cried  a  hoarse, 
rough  voice,  in  the  door-way;  and  at  the  same  instant,  Gorin, 
attended  by  a  large  party  of  soldiers,  advanced  into  the  room, 
with  movements  so  quick,  that  ere  Blakey  could  draw  his 
sword,  he  was  seized  and  pinioned. 

"Lost!  lost!"  moaned  Edwina,  as  she  saw  by  whom  the 
arrest  was  made;  and  then,  as  a  sudden  thought  seemed  to 
strike  her,  she  turned  to  leave  the  room,  but  found  that  she,  too, 
was  a  prisoner. 

"  Stay,  fair  lady  I"  cried  her  persecutor ;  "  you  cannot  yet  be 
spared.  I  have  a  desire  that  you  should  see  a  spy  tried  and 
dealt  with.  After  that,  I  may  take  the  trouble  to  inquire  into 
your  reasons  for  holding  communication  with  the  enemy." 
*  "O,  fiend!  fiend!  beware  how  you  act!  You  shall  be  made 
to  dearly  rue  this  act,  if  harm  comes  unto  him  or  me.  You  are 
not  now  in  the  American  camp!"  exclaimed  the  maiden. 

"  No,  but  I  am  commander  here,  and  threaten  as  you  may 
you  .are  now  in  my  power.  It  were  better  that  you  used  me 
with  a  little  more  civility." 

Edwina  now  looked  around  to  see  if  Yicentio  was  near  her, 
for  she  had  seen  him  at  the  moment  of  Gorin's  appearance 
peering  in  at  the  door.  But  she  looked  in  vain ;  the  spy  was 
not  there.  Then,  while  her  face  wore  a  deep  blush,  she  forced 
back  the  strong  current  of  her  pride,  and  in  tones  of  anguish, 
cried: 

"  Gorin,  as  you  are  a  man,  spare  him !  for  myself  I  ask  no 
favors,  but  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  do  him  no  harm !" 

"So  you  love  him,  eh?"  asked  the  fiend. 

"  I  do,  I  do!  and  on  my  bended  knees  I  pray  for  his  life !" 

"  Your  words  have  doubly  sealed  his  doom!"  replied  Gorin, 
with  a  sneer. 


THE  VOLUNTEEK.  77 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  EXECUTION. 

_T  was  the  dawn  of  day — the  morning  that  followed  the 
eventful  night  of  our  last  chapter.  In  the  same  room  in  which 
he  had  been  surprised  by  Gorin,  was  Blakey;  and  by  his  side 
sat  Edwina  Canales,  her  eyes  red  with  weeping. 

Goriri  had  condemned  her  lover  to  death !  He  was  to  be  shot 
at  sunrise;  and  with  the  purpose  of  adding  to  the  victim's 
suffering,  and  making  death  even  more  painful,  he  had  permitted 
a  last  interview  between  the  two.  Edwina's  firmness  had  given 
way,  when  she  found  that  her  lover  was  indeed  helplessly  in 
Gorin's  power — that  the  latter  had  his  own  company  of  reckless 
deserters  with  him,  who  would  obey  all  of  his  orders.  She 
thought  not  of  her  own  danger;  she  only  looked  upon  that  of 
him  whom  she  had  so  lately  met  and  loved — him  whom  she  was 
now  to  lose.  Blakey,  however,  was  calm  and  firm.  He  felt 
that  Gorin  would  not  dare  to  harm  her,  and  he  cared  not  for 
himself,  so  that  she  was  safe. 

"  I  have  but  one  thing  more  to  say,  dear  one,"  said  he,  as  the 
increasing  light  warned  him  that  his  time  had  nearly  come. 

"  Whatever  it  be,  if  my  life  is  spared,  your  request  shall  be 
fulfilled,"  cried  the  weeping  girl,  who  now,  though  dressed  still 
in  her  male  apparel,  was  again  the  woman. 

"  I  have  an  aged  father  and  mother,"  continued  Blakey,  who 
will  be  well-nigh  broken-hearted  when  they  hear  of  my  death. 
When  this  war  is  closed,  go  to  them,  at  their  woodland  home 
in  Kentucky,  and  bear  to  them  my  last  expressions  of  love. 
Here  is  a  letter  which  I  have  always  kept  ready,  in  case  I 
should  become  wounded  mortally,  or  be  slain.  It  bears  their 
address.  Go  to  them,  tell  them  of  our  love,  and  for  the  love  you 
have  borne  to  me,  be  unto  them  a  daughter." 

"  George,  think  you  that  I  shall  survive  your  death?  No,  if 
even  he  spared  me  now,  I  soon,  soon  shall  follow  you !" 

"  No,  dear  one,  you  must  not  talk  thus." 


78  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

He  was  interrupted  here  by  Gorin  and  a  guard,  the  former  in 
a  harsli  tone  exclaiming : 

"  It  is  time  to  put  a  stop  to  this.  The  sun  will  rise  in  five 
minutes." 

"  I  am  ready  I"  answered  Blakey,  in  a  firm  tone. 

Edwina  seemed  to  regain  her  firmness,  too,  in  the  presence 
of  her  enemy,  for  as  Blakey  went  forth,  with  a  calm  and  steady 
step  she  walked  by  his  side. 

They  were  conducted  to  the  open  square,  or  plaza,  which  is 
found  in  the  centre  of  every  Mexican  town,  and  here  they  found 
the  firing  party  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  prisoner,  as  also  a 
large  body  of  the  citizens  whom  the  rumor  of  a  military 
execution  had  brought  out  to  be  witnesses. 

Without  any  beat  of  drum,  or  any  of  the  solemn  ceremonies 
which  are  usual  on  such  occasions,  Gorin  marched  his  prisoner 
to  the  spot  chosen  for  the  execution,  and  preventing  even  the 
last  embrace  which  Edwina  requested,  caused  his  party  to 
prepare  to  fulfil  his  sentence. 

At  the  moment  when  he  was  forming  them  in  a  line,  a  clat 
tering  of  galloping  steeds  was  heard  in  the  entrance  of  the  town, 
and  before  he  could  give  the  orders  to  proceed,  a  general  officer, 
followed  by  a  body  of  lancers,  rode  up  at  full  speed.  Edwina, 
as  she  saw  this  officer,  screamed : 

"  Tis  Urreal    O,  save  him,  my  general— save  him !" 

She  then  fell  fainting  at  his  feet,  when  he  alighted  from  his 
panting  horse. 

"Stay  this  execution!  I  wish  to  inquire  into  this  matter !" 
cried  he,  who  was  indeed  the  general  whom  she  had  named. 

"Who  are  you,  sir?  What  right  have  you  to  interfere  with 
my  duties?"  exclaimed  Gorin,  angrily. 

"  General  Urrea,  your  superior  officer,"  replied  he. 

Gorin  glanced  around,  and  saw  that  his  "  superior  officer " 
had  a  force  sufficient  to  back  his  orders,  and  sullenly  answered : 

"Yon  prisoner  is  a  spy;  he  has  been  condemned  to  death." 
'  By  whom  ?    What  court  has  passed  sentence  upon  him  ?" 

"None!"  cried  Edwina,  who  now  had  recovered  so  as  to 
comprehend  the  change  of  scene.  "  The  American  came  here 
to  meet  me ;  he  is  no  spy.  Gorin  is  his  enemy ;  he  alone  has 
condemned  him  to  death." 

"  Gorin  ?"  repeated  Urrea ;  "  Gorin  ?  is  he  not  the  same  from 
whom  this  American  once  rescued  you  and  my  daughter?" 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  79 

"  He  is — he  is  a  deserter  from  his  own  array,  placed  by  Santa 
Anna  in  command  of  the  deserter  corps  I" 

"He  is  a  fit  leader  for  such  traitorous  dogs!"  replied  the 
general,  in  a  tone  of  withering  scorn;  then  turning  again  to 
him,  he  added:  "  You  have  far  exceeded  the  bounds  of  your 
authority,  sir!  The  prisoner,  by  this  lady's  own  confession,  is 
here  only  to  meet  her;  and  though  both  have  erred  in  thus 
meeting  at  a  time  when  war  is  between  their  flags,  yet  he  has 
done  nothing  worthy  of  death.  Moreover,  had  he  been  a  spy, 
you  have  no  right  to  take  his  execution  into  your  own  hands 
without  a  trial." 

Then  turning  to  the  prisoner,  he  kindly  smiled,  and  said : 

"  You  are  free,  senor,  in  consideration  of  your  past  service 
to  me  and  mine,  and  I  will  take  this  lady's  word  that  you  came 
but  to  visit  her.  Yet  let  me  warn  you  that  such  visits  are  as 
dangerous  to  you  as  to  her." 

"  They  will  not  be  repeated,  senor/'  replied  the  now  liberated 
American,  who  could  scarcely  realize  or  understand  how  he 
had  been  saved.  Had  his  eye  caught  a  glance  of  Vicentio's 
face,  who,  standing  by  the  general's  side,  had  gazed  with  a  look 
of  malignant  satisfaction  upon  Grorin,  whose  face  was  almost 
black  with  anger  at  his  defeat,  he  would  have  understood  all. 

On  the  night  before,  when  he  saw  that  his  mistress  and  her 
lover  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  their  enemy,  he  had  taken  & 
fresh  horse  from  the  stable,  and  riding  back  with  all  speed  to 
the  apot  where  he  knew  Urrea  had  encamped  for  the  night,  had 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  danger  which  menaced  Edwina 
Canales,  and  the  preserver  of  his  daughter.  Urrea,  mounting 
instantly,  had  arrived,  as  we  have  seen,  just  in  time  to  save  the 
noble  American,  and  to  frustrate  the  designs  of  Gorin. 

Blakey,  after  he.  was  freed,  spent  but  a  brief  time  longer  with 
her  whom  he  loved,  then  hastened  to  the  northward  to  regain 
his  own  camp.  The  news  that  he  had  for  his  general  was  im 
portant;  it  was  that  Santa  Anna,  with  twenty  thousand  men, 
was  on  his  route  to  meet  him.  When  he  gave  this  information 
to  General  Taylor,  he  was  astonished  at  the  perfect  calmness 
with  which  it  was  received.  The  general  had  brought  up  only 
about  four  thousand  men  to  Saltillo,  and  many  of  these  were 
men  untried  in  battle — men  whom  he  feared  would  not  stand 
before  a  mass  so  immense  as  that  which  approached. 

"  Santa  Anna  numbers  twenty  thousand,  you  say  ?"  was  the 
remark  of  old  Rough  and  Ready,  as  Blakey  gave  in  his  report. 


g0  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

«  Yes,  sir;  and  his  men  seem  eager  to  be  led  to  batf  io." 
"They  will  be  more  eager  to  get  out  of  it,  I  reckon,"  said  the 

old  general,  with  a  smile,  and  then  asked,  "Has  he  many 

cannon  ?" 
«  About  thirty  pieces;  but  they  are  poorly  fitted,  and  will  be 

but  poorly  served." 

"  That's  a  bad  lookout  in  him.  His  guns  should  be  his  first 
object— how  is  his  cavalry?" 

"Good,  sir— he  has  an  immense  number  of  lancers  and 
rancheros." 

"  Rancheros  ?  They  are  apt  to  fight,"  said  Taylor,  thought 
fully ;  "  what  force  of  infantry  has  he?" 

"Almost  eleven  thousand,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,"  replied  the 
young  officer. 

"  It  is  well.  You  have  nobly  done  your  duty  in  this  case ; 
you  have  nobly  refuted  the  false  accusation  which  brought  you 
before  a  court  martial.  It  will  give  me  a  double  pleasure  to 
bear  witness  to  your  zeal  and  ability,  when  I  next  write  to  the 
War  Department." 

"You  remind  me,  in  speaking  of  that  court,  that  I  saw  my 
accuser  while  on  this  scout." 
"Whom,  Gorin?" 

"  Yes,  general ;  failing  to  prove  me  a  traitor,  he  has  become 
one  himself.  lie  holds  a  commission  with  the  enemy,  and  is  in 
command  of  a  company  formed  of  deserters  from  us !" 

"  Then  if  he  can  be  but  recaptured,  I  will  show  him  what  a 
traitor  deserves !"  said  the  general,  while  his  face  grew  dark 
with  displeasure  "  If  he  dares  to  face  our  troops  in  battle,  it 
shall  go  hard  with  him.  He  shall  be  captured,  if  men  and  arms 
can  do  it." 

&)•  The  general  was  now  joined  by  a  number  of  officers,  for 
;    whom  he  had  sent  to  give  them  the  news,  and  to  counsel  upon 
A   the  steps  to  be  taken.    Many  of  his  best  troops  had  been  sent 
for  to  join  General  Scott,  at  Vera  Cruz;  his  favorite  general, 
the  gallant  Worth,  he  whose  "  waving  plume  "  had  ever  been 
seen  in  the  battle's  front,  was  gone.    Yet  Wool,  with  as  gallant 
and  noble  a  spirit  as  ever  bounded  at  the  thought  of  glory,  was 
there;  a  pan  of  the  regulars  who  had,  under  Ridgley,  Bragg, 
and  the  noble  Kinggold,  fought  at  Palo  Alto,  Resaca  and  Mon 
terey,  were  yet  with  him,  and  he  had  determined  to  meet  and 
ii^'lit  the  enemy. 
When,  therefore,  he  gave  them  the  news,  he  did  not  ask  the 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  81 

advice  of  the  officers  whether  or  not  he  should  fight  the  foe,  but 
simply  where  they  thought  would  be  the  best  battle  ground. 
The  veteran  Wool  was  the  first  to  answer,  and  he  at  once  de 
scribed  the  ground,  which  now  is  so  well  known  as  the  "  bloody 
field  of  Buena  Vista!"  Others  proposed  a  spot  still  further  in 
advance,  called  "  Agua  Nueva,"  but  the  result  of  General  Tay 
lor's  inspection  was  the  choice  of  Buena  Vista,  to  which,  after 
marching  as  far  forward  as  Agua  Nueva,  he  fell  back. 

For  some  days  after  the  return  of  Blakey,  daily  rumors  of  the 
approach  of  the  Mexicans  kept  the  camp  in  excitement,  and 
hurried  preparations  for  the  battle  that  now  appeared  inevita 
ble,  were  continually  making.  The  generals  and  commanders 
of  regiments  kept  their  troops  under  a  continual  drill,  much  to 
the  dissatisfaction  of  the  latter,  who  could  not  appreciate  the 
vise  or  necessity  of  such  severe  lessons,  although  they  soon 
afterward  learned  and  acknowledged  how  much  they  were 
benefited  by  the  course. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  BUENA  VISTA. 

IT  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  describe  the  ground  of  Buena 
Vista;  already  have  an  hundred  descriptions,  and  even  paint 
ings  of  it,  been  scattered  before  our  readers.  Nor  will  we  at 
tempt  a  full  description  of  the  battle.  It  has  already  been 
recorded  in  the  glorious  pages  of  American  history.  We  will 
only  confine  ourselves  to  the  scenes  and  incidents  in  which  the 
characters  of  our  drama  take  part;  in  fact,  we  have  only  room 
to  attend  to  them  and  their  respective  fates  in  this  little 
story. 

As  our  readers  of  course  know,  the  two  armies  met  on  the 
twenty-second  of  February,  the  anniversary  of  the  great  Wash 
ington's  birthday — an  omen  which  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
favorable.  This  day  was  spent  in  skirmishing  and  manoeuver- 
ing,  without  any  decisive  or  very  important  advantage  on  either 
side.  The  troops  slept  upon  their  arms  on  that  night— or,  at 
least,  lay  down  upon  them,  for  we  opine  that  sleep  visited  but 
.  few  eyes  on  cither  side  on  that  night.  When  the  morning's 
sun  arose  on  the  twenty-third,  then  the  Americans  had  a  fair 
ft 


g2  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

view  of  tho  foe  before  them ;  of  the  labor  which  they  must  that 
day  perform. 

As  far  as  they  could  look  along  the  mountain  sides,  and  in 
the  valley,  stood  the  serried  host  of  the  enemy,  their  arms  glit 
tering  like  silver  in  the  rosy  sunlight.  And  soon  they  began  to 
move — those  vast  fields  of  men,  whose  flaunting  banners  shook 
out  like  tongues  of  defiance  on  the  breeze. 

Soon  the  roar  of  the  tempest  of  war  began ;  soon  the  adverse 
tides  seemed  to  roll  up  to  meet  each  other,  and  then  the  boom- 
ins  cannon,  the  rattle  of  musketry,  and  the  sharper  crackling 
of  the  American  rifles,  began  to  tell  the  tale  of  death  and 
destruction  that  was  going  on. 

The  Kentuckians  were  posted  in  the  centre  on  this  day,  al 
though  they  had  been  engaged  on  the  mountain  side  to  the 
left,  on  the  twenty-second.  The  gallant  McKee  was  at  their 
head;  near  to  him  was  posted  Washington's  well-served  bat 
tery. 

Opposed  to  this  force  was  the  main  body  of  the  enemy's  lan 
cers,  and  among  these,  as  the  line  advanced  at  a  sweeping  trot, 
Blakey  felt  almost  sure  that  he  recognized  the  form  of  Edwina 
Canales.  It  was  indeed  she  whom  he  saw,  ere  that  line  started 
for  the  charge,  ride  along  its  front,  waving  her  hat  and  cheering 
the  men  on  to  their  duty. 

The  Mexicans  caine — a  body  of  over  six  thousand  horse — 
sweeping  right  down  upon  the  Kentucky  regiment  under  Mc 
Kee  and  Clay,  and  the  Illinoisans  under  Hardin.  As  they  camo 
fairly  within  range,  the  batteries  of  Sherman,  Bragg  and  Wash 
ington  opened  upon  them ;  yet  on  they  came—fresh  men  filling 
up  each  gap  made  in  their  ranks  by  the  storm  of  grape  and 
canister  which  met  them. 

Soon  they  were  engaged  hand  to  hand — lance  and  sabre, 
pistol  and  bayonet,  all  in  a  fierce  and  dreadful  melee,  struggling 
for  the  victory.  The  numbers  of  the  Mexicans  made  it  indeed 
a  fearful  struggle— for  their  very  weight  seemed  enough  to 
crush  our  little  army.  Entirely  surrounded  by  the  foe,  nobly 
did  these  gallant  spirits  stem  the  fierce  tide  of  battle.  Clay, 
McKee,  Hardin,  Zabriskie,  Lincoln  fell,  yet  steadily,  desper 
ately  fought  the  survivors  over  their  fallen  friends,  and  finally 
the  Mexicans,  leaving  the  ground  covered  with  their  dead  were 
forced  to  give  way. 

Twice  Blakey  saw  Edwina  Canales  amid  the  storm  of  battle; 
once  did  ho  strike  down  tho  weapon  of  one  of  his  own  riflemen 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  83 

which  was  aimed  at  her  breast.  She  was  so  near  tc  *ilm,  that 
he  could  distinguish  that  she  wore  upon  her  arm  the  band  of 
si Iver  lace  which  he  had  sent  her  at  Monterey;  he  felt  sure, 
therefore,  that  she  could  recognize  the  blue  scarf  which,  a 
present  from  her  hand,  crossed  his  breast,  making  him  more 
conspicuous  as  a  mark  for  the  enemy. 

So  far,  he  had  not  seen  or  heard  of  Gorin  and  his  party  of 
deserters,  and  he  began  to  think  that  they  had  shrunk  from  the 
battle.  He  had  seen,  when  the  lancers  gave  way  and  fell  back, 
that  Edwina  still  rode,  seemingly  unharmed,  among  them;  and 
as  she  had  apparently  left  the  field,  he  felt  more  at  ease  than 
when  he  knew  that  she  was  mingling  in  the  perils  of  that 
dreadful  charge. 

He  received  orders  at  this  moment  to  ride  to  the  left,  and  to 
report  the  repulse  of  the  enemy  in  the  centre  to  General  Tay 
lor;  and  as  the  strife  seemed  to  be  fearfully  hot  on  the  left,  he 
spurred  his  horse  swiftly  on,  in  hopes  yet  to  share  in  the  honor 
of  serving  immediately  tinder  the  eye  of  his  general. 

He  arrived  at  that  fearful  crisis  when  the  whole  fate  of  the 
day  seemed  to  hang  upon  a  thread — when  the  enemy,  having 
by  a  ruse  found  out  the  station  of  General  Taylor,  had  turned 
every  gun  in  that  direction,  and  advanced  with  almost  all  their 
force  upon  that  point. 

Protected  by  Bragg's  battery  alone,  the  infantry  all  having 
fallen  back  or  taken  ground  more  to  the  right,  Blakey  found 
his  general.  Calmly  seated  on  his  old  white  war  steed,  with 
but  two  or  three  of  his  staff  around  him,  was  Taylor,  looking 
with  a  firm  but  anxious  eye  upon  the  advancing  mass  of  the 
enemy. 

Blakey  here  found  that  the  lancers,  who  had  been  repulsed 
in  the  centre,  had  re-formed,  and  were  again  in  the  van  of  the 
enemy;  and  again  he  recognized  the  noble  form  of  the  heroine, 
as  she  rode  with  wild  grace  the  coal-black  horse  which  mated 
his  own.  He  saw,  too,  that  the  cavalry  of  the  Mexicans  was 
supported  in  the  rear  by  a  large  body  of  infantry;  and  when  he 
looked  around  at  the  handful  of  men  who  were  by  the  side  of 
his  general,  he  trembled  for  the  result. 

The  Mexicans  came  on,  and  as  they  came  within  his  range, 
Bragg  opened  his  battery  with  fearful  effect,  mowing  down 
horses  and  men  in  broad  swaths  as  they  came  on.  Yet  it  did 
not  check  the  charge ;  on,  on  they  came,  and  he  was  loading  his 
guns  for  a  last,  it  seemed  a  hopeless,  effort  At  this  feurful 


g4  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

moment,  when  brave  men  felt  that  their  hour  was  at  hand- 
when  Bragg-8  artillerists  were  preparing  to  contest  hand  to 
hand  with  the  foe— as  they  were  placing  the  last  charge  into 
their  guns,  which  they  could  not  load  again  before  the  foe 
would  be  upon  them,  a  low,  stern  voice  in  the  rear  of  the  bat 
tery  was  heard,  which  seemed  like  magic  to  affect  them.  The 
words  were  few  and  simple : 

"A  little  more  grape,  Captain  Bragg!"  was  all  that  was 
said,  yet  he  who  spoke  seemed  so  calm,  so  full  of  confidence, 
that  the  men  knew  from  that  moment  that  they  were  invincible 
while  he  lived. 

"Double  shot  with  grape!  Double  shot  each  gun!"  cried 
Bragg,  cheerfully,  as  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  commander. 

"  Double  shot  it  is  with  grape—and  give  'em  Jessie !"  re 
sponded  the  men,  and  the  next  moment  each  piece  was  filled 
almost  to  the  muzzle  with  grape.  Then  came  the  order : 

"  Depress  the  guns  for  close  work— now  fire !"  And  with  the 
sound  of  that  fearful  discharge,  arose  a  cheer  from  the  gallant 
artillerists  that  seemed  almost  to  pierce  the  skies. 

A  thick  cloud  was  between  them  and  the  foe ;  when  it  arose, 
they  saw  but  a  struggling  heap  of  men  and  horses.  The  whole 
front  of  the  cavalry  line  was  mowed  down — not  shattered  or 
scattered,  but  mowed  down  by  that  fearful  discharge. 

Yet  the  Mexicans  seemed  resolved  not  to  give  up  the  prize 
which  lay  before  them.  The  infantry  was  ordered  to  advance, 
and  now,  for  the  first  time,  Blakey  saw  Gorin  and  his  company 
of  deserters.  They  were  detailed  as  a  forlorn  hope  to  take  the 
battery,  and  right  gallantly  they  dashed  on  toward  it.  But  the 
"  grape  "  was  again  prepared  for  them ;  one  more  fearful  volley, 
and  over  two-thirds  of  the  company  lay  dead  upon  the  ground. 
The  Mexican  infantry  turned  and  fled,  and  Gorin,  cursing  their 
cowardice  and  his  own  bad  luck,  followed  the*m  slowly. 

Blakey,  seeing  that  he  had  but  a  few  men  with  him,  collected 
a  few  horsemen,  and  with  the  permission  of  the  general,  at 
tempted  his  capture;  but  he  was  too  late  to  reach  him  before 
he  had  regained  the  main  body  of  the  enemy,  whom  it  would 
have  been  madness  for  him  to  attack,  with  but  twenty  men  at 
his  back. 

He  had  lost  sight  of  Edwina  after  that  last,  deadly  shower  of 
grape;  and  now,  as  he  rode  slowly  back,  his  eye  glanced  anx 
iously  along  that  dreadful  winrow  of  death,  tearful  lest  it  should 
light  upon  her  mangled  form. 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  85 

He  had  passed  nearly  by  the  front  ranks,  when  he  heard  his 
name  murmured  near  him.  He  glanced  around ;  his  face  turned 
deathly  pale.  He  indeed  saw  her,  as  she  lay  there,  amid  the 
dead  and  dying,  beside  her  noble  steed,  which  had  been  almost 
cut  in  two  by  the  shot.  In  a  moment  he  sprang  from  his  horse 
and  knelt  by  her  side,  raising  her  head  to  his  bosom. 

"O,  Heaven!  are  you  wounded,  dear  one?  Thank  God  I 
have  met  you  so  soon !"  he  exclaimed,  calling  at  the  same  mo 
ment  to  a  soldier  to  come  and  aid  in  raising  her  from  the  gory 
heap  in  which  she  was  half  buried. 

"  I  am  hurt  more  by  the  fall  of  my  horse,  under  which  I  at 
first  fell,"  replied  she.  But  at  the  moment  she  spoke,  the  blood, 
gushing  from  a  wound  in  her  shoulder,  told  of  a  still  more 
serious  injury  from  a  shot. 

It  was  but  a  few  moments  before  Blakey  and  his  men  had 
extricated  her  from  her  perilous  position ;  and  confiding  her  to 
the  charge  of  two  of  them,  he  bade  them  hasten  with  her  to 
Saltillo  and  there  procure  a  surgeon,  and  guard  her  with  every 
care  and  kindness  until  he  could  leave  the  field  and  attend  her 
in  person. 

This  done,  he  returned  to  the  side  of  his  general,  who  had 
been  too  busy  in  watching  the  appearance  of  the  field,  to  note 
his  last  adventure.  The  storm  of  battle  still  rolled  along  the 
right,  but  soon  May  and  Pike,  with  the  dragoons,  closed  the 
scene  there — losing  poor  Yell,  and  other  noble  spirits,  in  the 
charge,  but  completely  driving  the  foe  before  them. 

Although  the  battle  was  still  kept  up  by  small,  detached  par 
ties,  the  fate  of  the  day  was  no  longer  uncertain.  Victory  was 
ours  I  Taylor  had  won  his  fourth  and  most  glorious  battle. 

When  darkness  came  over  the  sky,  the  black-mouthed  cannon 
ceased  to  give  its  loud  thunders  to  the  air.  But  sadder  tones 
were  now  heard!  The  shrieks  and  moans  of  hundreds  who 
werii  dying  in  such  agony  as  none  save  those  who  have  felt  it 
can  know,  filled  now  the  heavy  and  stifling  air;  near  three 
thousand  dead  and  dying  men  lay  scattered  over  that  terrible 
tk-kl. 

All  of  that  night,  groups  of  kind  angels,  women  of  Mexico, 
•were  scattered  about  the  ensanguined  plain,  attending  to  the 
suffering,  careless  whether  it  was  to  friend  or  foe  that  they 
extended  this  kindness,  so  that  it  was  a  sufferer  whom  they 
could  assist. 


80  THE  VOLUNTEEB. 


,  CHAPTER  XVI. 

GOBIN  CAST  ADBIFT  FBOM  THE  MEXICANS. 

IT  was  but  a  few  days  after  the  battle  of  Buena  Yista,  wher 
Urrea,  with  all  of  the  forces  which  he  had  left,  by  making  * 
detour  around  the  mountains,  regained  his  old  position  in  tho 
"  Bolsa  de  Flores,"  to  the  westward  of  Monterey.  Canales  tho 
elder  had  gone  to  the  northward,  sad  and  disheartened  at  this 
last  defeat,  and  mourning  the  loss  of  his  noble  sister,  who  was 
reported  among  the  slain,  which  he  doubted  not,  for  her  com 
pany  was  cut  to  pieces.  He  had  not  crossed  the  path  of  Gorin, 
who  had  become  as  unpopular  among  his  new  friends,  as  lie 
had  before  been  among  the  Americans.  Urrea  found  his  wife 
and  daughter  safe  on  his  return,  and  the  latter  was  full  of  joy, 
in  that  her  lover  had  returned  safe  to  her  side. 

We  are  opposed  to  love  scenes ;  no,  not  opposed  to  them  ex 
actly  either,  but  opposed  to  describing  them,  therefore  we  will 
not  give  the  reader  a  picture  of  the  first  interview  between 
Anita  and  young  Canales;  but  a  conversation  which  ensued  as 
they  walked  up  the  valley  on  the  same  evening,  was  sufficiently 
sober  and  sensible  for  us  to  give  to  the  reader's  eye. 

"  You  are  very,  very  sad  to-night,  dear  Bonaventura,"  said 
Anita,  as  she  gazed  up  into  the  dark  eyes  of  her  young  lover. 

"  Yes,  dearest,  I  am  thinking  of  my  poor  sister." 

"  Perhaps  she  lives  yet,"  replied  the  fair  girl,  in  whose  fond 
heart  everything  rested  on  hope. 

"Xo,  I  fear  it  is  useless  so  to  hope.  She  was  seen  to  fall, 
her  company  was  all  slain.  I  saw  Yicentio  in  the  mass  of  dead 
and  dying,  and  asked  him  where  she  was.  He  told  me  that 
she  had  fallen  in  the  chagfje  made  to  capture  the  American 
general." 

"  Is  Vicentio  slain,  too  ?" 

"  No,  he  was  badly  wounded;  but  I  think  if  he  was  cared  for, 
he  may  have  been  saved." 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  87 

"Would  to  Heaven  that  I  could  hope!'1  sighed  the  brother; 
"  but  no,  I  will  not;  I  will  let  hope  die,  while  ray  revenge  shall 
burn  until  death!" 

"  O,  talk  not  so  wildly;  would  to  Heaven  I  could  have  pre 
vailed  upon  her  to  remain  by  my  side." 

"  Would  to  Heaven  you  had— but  there  is  a  soldier  riding 
this  way.  He  is  pale,  and  looks  as  if  he  was  weak  and  travel- 
worn." 

"  Yes ;  but  look,  Bonaventura,  surely  I  have  seen  him  before. 
It  is,  it  must  be  Vicentio." 

The  eye  of  Bonaventura  brightened  as  he  recognized  in  the 
pale  soldier  who  rode  slowly  toward  him,  the  spy,  the  one  whom 
we  have  already  known  so  faithful  to  Edwina.  As  he  saw  him, 
he  bounded  to  his  side,  exclaiming,  as  he  reached  him : 

"Are  you  indeed  alive?  O,  where  is  my  sister— is  she 
dead?" 

"  Read  her  letter,"  said  the  spy,  faintly;  "  I  have  brought  it 
from  her  own  hand." 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  the  youth,  as  with  a  trembling 
hand  he  tore  open  the  letter  which  the  wounded  soldier  handed 
to  him. 

"Is  she  much  injured?"  now  nsked  Anita,  while  her  eyes 
glistened  with  the  tears  of  joy  which  were  rising  in  them. 

The  young  brother  read  her  letter  aloud,  the  better  to  assure 
the  young  girl  of  his  sister's  welfare,  It  was  as  follows : 

"  DEAR  BROTHER  :—  I  write  that  you  may  not  feel  uneasy 
regarding  my  fate.  I  was  sadly  wounded,  but  was  found,  prov 
identially,  upon  the  battle-iicld,  and  have  since  been  attended 
with  tender  and  devoted  care  by  the  same  noble  American  unto 
whom  I  was  twice  before  indebted  for  my  life,  Captain  Blakey. 
I  am  better,  but  not  sufficiently  well  to  leave  the  camp;  in  fact, 
it  seems  that  it  will  be  long  ere  I  shall  led  willing  to  leave,  a 
place  where  I  have  been  so  kindly  and  tenderly  treated. 

"  Let  our  brother  know  that  I  am  safe — give  my  warm  re 
gards  to  Anita,  and  believe  that  I  am  as  happy  as  any  one  in 
my  situation  can  be.  EDWIN  A." 

"Seemed  she  happy  when  you  left  her?"  asked  the  young 
officer. 
"As  happy,  senor,  as  you  would  be  if  you  were  too  weak  to 


££  TIIK   VOLUNTEER. 

leave  the   side  of  yon  blushing  young  lady.    She,  too,  has    a 

lover." 

"A  lover?  surely  she  has  not  loved  one  of  the  enemy  I"  ex 
claimed  the  brother. 

"  She  surely  has ;  one  who  has  saved  her  life  so  often  as  this 
Blakey,  certainly  deserves  some  gratitude  in  return." 

"  But  not  the  love  of  my  sister,"  said  the  proud  young  broth 
er,  seeming  to  think  that  her  love  was  indeed  a  priceless  boon. 

"  I  should  love  him  had  he  been  thrice  the  saviour  of  my 
life,"  said  Anita.  And  as  she  spoke,  the  youth  seemed  to  yield 
to  the  force  of  her  argument,  for  he  smiled  sadly  and  said : 

"  It  is  well,  perhaps,  that  it  is  so,  yet  I  would  rather  she  had 
not  given  her  love  unto  one  of  the  Saxon  bjood.  She  is  from 
one  of  the  proudest  stocks  of  Spain.  I  would  that  she  had 
wed  a  Spaniard  or  remained  single." 

"  The  blood  of  this  lover  of  hers  may  not  be  Spanish,  nor  his 
line  of  descent  so  haughty  as  her  own,  but  this  he  has  proved : 
that  he  is  ready  to  die  for  her— that  her  life  is  precious  to  him," 
said  Anita,  with  spirit. 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  Bonaventura;  "  but  I  must  go  and  see 
her;  I  must  know  all  this  from  her  own  lips." 

The  cheeks  of  Anita  turned  pale  as  she  heard  this ;  she  liked 
not  this  sudden  parting  with  her  lover;  she  liked  not  that  he 
should  be  exposed  in  the  dangerous  vicinity  of  the  American 
camp  again,  for  fearful  rumors  of  the  excesses  committed  by 
the  troops  in  revenge  for  their  loved  and  lost  leaders,  came  but 
too  oflen,  we  need  not  say  falsely,  to  her  ears.  Therefore  she 
erin!  in  answer: 

"  Surely  you  can  write  to  her.  It  will  be  dangerous  for  yon 
to  go  to  their  camp;  besides,  you  know  how  strict  now  is  my 
father.  He  has  forbidden  any  communication  with  the  enemy, 
under  the  fearful  penalty  of  death." 

"  I  mint  see  my  sister,"  replied  the  youth,  firmly.  "  I  can  do 
so  in  three  or  four  days,  and  your  father  will  not  know  where 
I  have  gone." 

"  O,  Bonaventura,  do  not  leave  me,"  sighed  the  young  girl. 
"  I  have  a  sad  presentiment  that  if  we  part  now,  our  parting 
will  be  eternal." 

44 Ot  shake  off  such  foolish  thoughts,  Anita;  I  will  return 
safely  within  three  or  four  days,"  replied  the  other. 

Her  only  answer  was  tears  and  sobs ;  and  leaving  her  in  those, 
he  that  night  set  out,  leaving  an  apology  to  the  general  for  a 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  89 

frw  days'  absence.  In  thus  proceeding  he  acted  contrary  to 
the  rigid  rules  of  military  discipline,  but  he  had  counted  much 
upon  his  general's  usual  kindness  towards  him,  perhaps  too 
much,  but  let  the  sequel  show. 

After  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista,  Santa  Anna,  who  had  only 
paused  to  collect  his  scattered  forces  at  San  Luis  Potosit  and 
whose  temper  had  not  been  much  sweetened  by  his  defeat, 
caused  Gorin  to  be  summoned  before  him.  The  latter  hastened 
to  obey  the  order,  expecting  some  reward  for  his  bravery,  on 
the  field,  for  he  had  indeed  fought  desperately  well,  as  the  loss 
of  over  two-thirds  of  his  men  proved.  But  he  was  taken  all 
aback  with  astonishment  to  find  that  abuse  instead  of  praise, 
censure  instead  of  reward,  was  to  be  his. 

"We  have  no  further  need  of  deserters  in  our  service,  sir; 
you  and  your  company  are  not  needed  any  longer,"  said  the 
Mexican  general. 

"Do  I  understand  you,  general?"  said  Gorin,  evidently 
doubting  his  own  ears. 

"  You  certainly  ought  so  to  do,"  replied  the  former,  in  a  cold, 
contemptuous  tone.  "  You  are  no  longer  needed  in  my  army  ; 
you  had  better  return  to  that  from  which  you  came." 

"  Is  this  the  reward  which  I  am  to  have  for  all  my  services  ?" 
asked  the  other. 

"  Perhaps  you  may  get  a  higher  reward  in  your  own  camp," 
said  the  Mexican  general  in  a  sarcastic  tone,  at  the  same  time 
turning  on  his  wooden  stump  and  stumping  away. 

Gorin  paused  a  moment,  his  whole  frame  quivering  with  ex 
citement  and  anger;  his  brow  clouded  with  mortification.  He 
had  become  a  traitor  to  his  country,  only  to  be  foiled  in  all  his 
aims.  His  revenge  had  been  thwarted,  his  services  despised 
and  passed  over  unrequited;  in  short,  without  benefiting  him 
self  in  any  way,  he  became  a  traitor  and  an  outcast  from  both 
sides,  one  who  seemed  to  be  cursed  by  a  most  untoward  and 
relentless  fate. 

After  this  insulting  interview  he  retired  to  his  quarters,  where 
for  a  short  time  he  made  his  future  course  a  subject  of  study. 
He  had  about  twenty  men  left — deserters,  fellows  who  were  de 
void  of  principle  and  all  things  save  mere  brute  courage.  They 
were  fit  tools  to  serve  his  villany,and  his  first  thought  was  now 
to  form  them  into  a  banditti  corps,  determining  to  prey  on 
either  side,  whenever  plunder  was  to  be  had  or  revenge  to  be 
obtained. 


90  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

"Ay,"  said  he,  in  a  bitter  tone,  though  speaking  to  himself, 
"  ay,  I  will  show  them  what  a  desperado  and  wronged  man  may 
do  for  revenge.  I  will  hover  around  until  every  enemy  has  lelt 
my  power.  I  will  have  full  and  ample  vengeance.  Cauales  is 
terrible,  but  I  will  be  more  so.  Let  him— Blakey,  let  all  beware 
of  me.  Henceforth  I  belong  to  no  side,  I  war  with  the  whole 
world." 

He  hastened  to  the  quarters  of  his  men,  and  having,  with 
many  additions,  related  the  insulting  dismissal  of  himself  and 
company  from  Santa  Anna's  service,  proposed  to  them  his  plan, 
to  make  both  parties  their  prey  henceforth.  As  he  expected, 
his  proposition  was  acceded  to  with  loud  acclamations,  and  on 
the  same  night,  he  and  his  "  free  companions  "  were  mounted 
and  speeding  to  the  northward,  unto  a  richer  country  than  that 
which  they  were  then  in.  Leaving  them  for  the  present,  we 
will  return  to  another  of  our  characters. 

It  was  not  until  the  day  after  the  battle  that  Blakey  could  be 
so  relieved  from  his  duties  as  to  get  time  to  pay  a  visit  to  Ed- 
wina,  whom,  however,  he  had  heard  from  favorably,  through 
the  surgeon  who  had  dressed  her  wounds.  As  soon  as  his 
duties  permitted,  however,  he  hastened  to  her  side.  To  his 
inquiry  as  to  her  situation,  her  weak,  low-toned  reply  was  : 

"  I  am  better,  now  that  I  know  you  are  safe.  But  this  has 
been  a  fearful  time." 

"  Yes,  dearest;  never  have  I  seen  its  like  before— never  may 
I  look  upon  it  again !" 

"  I  think  you  will  not.  I  fear  me  that  Santa  Anna  never  will 
have  the  power  to  raise  such  another  army  as  that  which  you 
have  conquered.  Yonr  general  is  indeed  invincible." 

44  So  it  seems,"  replied  Blakey,  proudly ;  "  but  his  success  in 
this  dreadful  battle  has  been  almost  providential.  At  times  the 
fate  of  the  day  seemed  to  vacillate  from  side  to  side,  as  you 
have  seen  some  mighty  tree  trembling  as  it  received  the  last 
few  blows  of  the  woodman's  axe,  first  swaying  a  little  to  one 
side,  and  then  to  the  other,  leaving  the  beholder  uncertain 
which  way  it  would  fall." 

"Yes,  it  was  too  true;  when  with  fluttering  pennons  and 
bloody  spurs  we  advanced  to  that  last  charge,  it  seemed  to  me 
impossible  that  we  could  be  stayed,  but  that  fearful  cannonade 
was  more  than  the  warriors  of  the  Cid  in  the  olden  times  could 
have  faced."  V 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  91 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

URREA  AND   HIS  DAUGHTER. 

"ANITA,  are  you  aware  which  way  Don  BonaventuraCanales 
has  gone?"  asked  her  father,  sternly  of  Donna  Anita,  a  few 
honrs  after  his  departure.  "  The  young  man  dares  much  to 
leave  my  camp  in  times  like  these,  without  my  consent." 

The  young  lady  dared  not  answer  her  fattier  directly,  for  she 
saw  that  his  mood  was  angry,  and  she  knew  well  that  her  lover 
had  taken  a  rash  step,  therefore  she  answered : 

"  He  has  gone  to  take  a  short  journey,  my  father,  caused  by 
a  sudden  message  which  he  received." 

"From  whom,  child?" 

"  From  some  relative — who  wished  his  presence." 

"  Know  you  when  he  will  return  ?" 

"  Four  days,  he  told  me,  would  be  the  time  of  his  absence." 

"  Four  days !  in  four  days  he  can  travel  far, — Anita,  you  know 
all  of  his  secrets — I  demand  of  you  where  he  has  gone,"  cried 
the  father,  in  a  tone  more  stern  than  he  generally  used. 

She  dared  not  equivocate  now,  and  replied :  "  To  the  American 
camp,  to  see  his  sister." 

" His  sister!  was  she  not  slain?" 

"  No,  my  father  he  got  a  letter  from  her  last  evening,  and  set 
out  at  once  while  you  were  absent." 

"And  he  knew  the  orders  that  I  had  given—yes,  for  he  copied 
them  himself,  forbidding  any  communication  with  the  enemy  on 
pain  of  death,"  said  the  general,  sternly.  "  He  is  trifling  with 
his  own  life." 

"  O,  my  father,  surely  he  cannot  be  blamed  for  wishing  to  see 
his  wounded  and  helpless  sister — perhaps  he  has  gone  to  rescue 
her  from  her  captors." 

"  He  is  to  be  blamed,  ay,  and  punished  for  disobeying  orders," 
replied  the  general.  "  I  would  rather  have  cut  off  my  left  arm, 
than  he  whom  I  have  so  loved  should  be  the  first  to  disobey 
my  orders,  yet  it  is  his  own  fault— on  his  head  must  rest  its 
punishment." 


9-2  THE   VOLUNTPJEK. 

"  O,  my  father,  you  surely  are  not  intending  to  take  serious 
notice  of  this  act?"  cried  the  unhappy  girl,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  My  daughter,  there  is  no  use  in  giving  orders  if  obedience 
is  not  enforced.  Don  Bouaveutura  must  be  court-martialed  on 
his  return !" 

"  O  Heaven — and  if  court-martialed,  there  is  but  one  doom! 
My  father,  if  he  is  lost,  you  lose  your  child.  I  love  Don  Bona- 
ventura  as  none  save  I  can  love.  He  is  my  life,  my  all !" 

With  an  astonishment  which  words  could  not  express,  Gen 
eral  Urrea  gazed  upon  his  daughter,  as  he  heard  her  utter  these 
words.  He  had  not  dreamed  that  they  who  were  so  young  had 
yet  thought  of  love,  nor  had  he  wished  it.  Much  as  he  was 
pleased  with  young  Canales,  whom  he  deemed  brave  and  active, 
he  looked  upon  him  as  far  beneath  his  daughter  in  birth  and 
station,  and  he  did  not  think  that  the  young  man  had  ever 
aspired  to  more  than  the  friendship  of  his  daughter.  Therefore 
it  will  not  seem  so  strange  that  he  replied : 

"  Love,,  child  ?  Talk  you  of  loving  that  unknown  boy,  you 
who  are  the  only  heir  of  the  Urrea  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  father— I  not  only  speak  of  love,  but  I  avow  that 
Bonaventura  Canales  has  all  of  the  love  which  my  poor  heart 
can  give  I  Now,  sir,  try  him,  shoot  him  if  you  will,  but  remem 
ber  that  his  life  is  mine  1" 

The  father  answered  not,  but  with  a  clouded  and  troubled 
brow  passed  from  the  spot,  leaving  his  daughter  in  tears.  But 
she  did  not  long  remain  so.  With  her  mother's  beauty,  she  had 
inherited  all  of  her  mother's  tenderness,  yet  she  did  not  entirely 
lack  the  spirit  of  her  impetuous  father.  He  had  left  her  but  a 
few  moments,  when  she  dashed  away  all  appearances  of  grief, 
and  summoning  a  female  servant  to  her  side,  bade  her  seek  out 
Vicentio  the  spy,  and  send  him  to  her.  When  the  spy  appeared, 
she  bade  the  girl  leave  the  room,  and  then  turning  to  the  spy, 
said : 

"  Vicentio,  I  am  going  to  the  American  camp— will  you  go 
wituine?" 

"To  the  American  camp,  lady?" 

<^res""to  the  American  camp,  or  to  meet  on  the  road  from 
it,  Don  Bonaventura  Canales.  His  life  is  in  danger— he  must 
not  return  here—I  must  see  him." 

"  Lady,  I  will  go  to  him.  The  danger  is  too  much  for  you- 
but  what  ia  the  peril  to  his  life?" 


THE  VOLUATTEElt.  03 

"  He  lias  gone  to  the  American  camp  to  see  his  sister,  with 
out  my  father's  permission.  The  penalty  is  death." 

"  But  surely  your  father  will  not  enforce  it  on  him !" 

"  In  his  duty  my  father  knows  no  favorites — he  is  sterner  to 
his  friends  than  to  any  others." 

"  I  will  go  and  warn  him  of  his  danger,  lady — but  you  must 
not  undertake  the  journey." 

"  O,  good  Yicentio,  say  not  so.  I  would  see  him  again  before 
we  part,  perhaps  forever." 

"  Lady,  you  will  not  be  long  separated.  I  know  your  father 
well — his  heart  will  soften  when  he  sees  your  sorrow ;  the  young 
officer  will  be  pardoned  and  soon  recalled.  I  pray  you  not  to 
leave  this  place  of  safety — I  will  at  once  see  him  and  put  him 
on  his  guard." 

"Be  it  so  then,  good  Vicentio;  carry  to  him  my  warmest 
words  of  love,  tell  him  not  to  return  until  I  send  him  word  that 
he  can  do  so  safely." 

"  I  will,  lady,"  replied  the  spy,  and  soon  left  her  presence, 
she  being  now  more  cheerful,  for  her  heart  was  again  reani 
mated  with  hope,  for  she  knew  that  the  spy  by  fast  riding  would 
be  sure  to  overtake  him. 

Her  father,  re-entering  the  room  a  few  moments  after,  seemed 
surprised  that  she  had  so  soon  checked  the  overrunning  current 
of  her  grief,  but  made  no  remark  upon  it.  He  came  to  bid  her 
prepare  for  a  journey  to  the  northward — he  was  about  to  move 
his  position.  She  would  have  given  much  to  have  known  this 
but  a  few  moments  sooner,  but  now  it  was  too  late  for  her  wish, 
the  spy  was  already  speeding  on  his  route  toward  the  American 
camp.  To  this  we  will  ourselves  pay  a  brief  visit. 

Bonaventura  Canales,  coming  with  a  white  flag,  and  begging 
permission  to  visit  his  wounded  sister,  found  no  difficulty  in 
gaining  admittance  to  the  American  camp,  and  soon  clasped 
her  weak  form  to  his  bosom.  Almost  as  kind  and  tender  was 
his  meeting  with  Blakey,  for  he  could  not  look  upon  the  man 
who  thrice  had  saved  his  sister's  life  and  once  his  own,  without 
feeling  the  full  tide  of  gratitude  rushing  up  from  his  heart's 
warmest  depths.  After  the  first  thrill  of  joy  at  the  meeting  had 
passed  away,  the  three  engaged  in  a  conversation  touching  the 
prospects  of  a  peace,  which  all  of  them  seemed  ardently  to  wish 
for. 

"  I  am  tired  of  a  war  in  which  we  get  nothing  but  hard  knocks 


94  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

and  poor  pay,"  was  the  natural  remark  of  the  younger  Cauales. 
And  his  sister  added: 

"  Yes,  brother — a  war  in  which  those  who  are  most  innocent 
are  the  greatest  sufferers.  I  am  sure  that  the  poor  peasantry 
whose  fields  are  laid  waste,  and  whose  little  all  has  been  de 
stroyed,  who  have  been  preyed  upon  by  their  own  countrymen 
more  than  by  their  foes,  had  but  little  to  do  in  drawing  the 
desolating  storm  of  war  down  upon  themselves." 

"  It  is  one  that  I  have  seen  enough  of  to  satisfy  me  for  a  life 
time,"  added  Blakey ;  "  and  as  my  term  of  service  soon  expires, 
it  will  probably  be  the  last  war  of  invasion  in  which  I  shall  ever 
participate.  I  would  die  for  the  defence  of  my  country,  but 
never  again  will  I  leave  her  borders  to  seek  for  glory." 

Edwina  was  about  to  reply,  when  an  orderly  came  in  and  an 
nounced  a  Mexican  soldier,  who  had  come  into  the  camp,  in 
quiring  for  Captain   Blakey's   quarters.     We   need  scarcely 
inform  the  reader  that  it  was  Vicentio,  and  his  information  was 
soon  imparted  to  the  younger  Canales. 
"  What  steps  will  you  adopt?"  asked  his  sister. 
"  I  shall  return  to  the  camp,"  answered  the  other. 
"  No,  it  must  not  be— you  will  only  go  there  to  die,"  responded 
the  sister. 

"  General  Urrea  is  a  man— he  surely  cannot  carry  out  his 
orders  in  this  case,  when  he  reflects  upon  the  sacred  duty  which 
caused  me  to  break  them." 

"  I  fear  for  you,  my  brother;  yet  if  you  will  return,  and  I  am 
not  considered  a  prisoner,  I  shall  go  with  you.  I  have  much 
influence  with  Urrea,"  said  Edwina  sadly,  looking  toward 
Blakey,  who  now  had  become  an  accepted  lover,  their  engage 
ment  to  be  consummated  at  the  closing  of  the  war. 

"  You  surely  are  not  a  prisoner,  yet  indeed  it  will  be  painful 
for  me  to  separate  from  you,  and  you  are  yet  too  weak  to 
endure  the  fatigue  of  a  journey,  dearest,"  replied  Blakey. 

"I  will  only  stay  if  my  brother  will  defer  his  return  to  the 
camp  of  his  general." 

"For  your  sake  I  will  change  my  course,  dear  sister,  and  by 
easy  stages  we  can  rejoin  our  brother,  who  is  on  the  northern 
borders.  I  can  easily  find  his  camp,"  said  the  brother.  And  to 
this  they  all  consented. 

The  brother  now  left  the  two  alone  for  a  short  time,  in  order 
o  prepare  for  his  return,  taking  Vicentio  with  him.    When 
they  wore  alone,  Blakey  sadly  remarked- 
' 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  95 

"  I  had  not  dreamed  of  parting  so  soon  from  you,  dear  Edwina. 
I  had  almost  hoped  that  we  might  be  together  until  the  close  of 
the  war.  I  am  sure  that  peace  must  follow  this  last  decisive 
battle." 

"  It  will  be  better  for  us  to  part  now,"  replied  the  lady.  "  I 
am  but  an  incumbrance  here — I  am  now  able  to  travel,  and  if 
peace  is  soon  made,  the  sooner  we  will  meet  again." 

"  But  you  are  not  an  incumbrance  upon  my  duties,  dear  one ; 
and  moreover,  in  one  week  more  my  term  of  service  expires, 
my  company  will  be  discharged,  and  then  I  shall  seek  my 
northern  home— would  to  God  that  you  were  going  with  me!" 

The  lady  sighed,  but  answered  not,  and  he  continued : 

"  Why  can  you  not  go  with  me  ?  Why  may  we  not  even  now 
be  united'?" 

"  My  brothers  are  here — how  can  I  desert  them  ?  they  are 
fighting  for  their  adopted  country." 

"  They  will  join  us  when  the  war  is  over — we  will  no  more 
mingle  in  its  horrors,  but  live  henceforth  for  each  other  only." 

"  It  cannot  be — you  had  better  defer  it  until  you  return  to 
your  home.  I  shall  remain  faithful  to  you." 

"  I  fear  not  your  want  of  constancy,  dearest,  but  it  will  be 
painful  for  me  to  leave  you  here  in  a  land  of  strife— to  know 
that  you  are  in  danger." 

"  I  am  used  to  that — I  should  not  be  at  home  were  I  not  in 
peril,"  she  replied,  with  a  sad  smile.  "  But  we  soon  shall  meet 
igain,  if  this  war  is  as  near  its  close  as  you  think." 

"And  if  not— " 

"  I  will  meet  you  and  leave  my  brothers,  after  I  have  seen  rny 
fioble  Licencio  once  more,"  replied  she. 

"  Where  can  I  meet  you  ?" 

"At  Matamoras,  or  some  point  in  that  vicinity,"  replied 
Edwina. 

"  Then,  dear  one,  on  these  conditions  I  will  bear  our  separa 
tion  with  patience  and  hope,  and  will  hasten  homeward  to  pre 
pare  my  parents  to  receive  their  daughter — to  make  my  home 
•eady  for  my  bride." 

Edwina  was  blushing  deeply,  when  at  this  moment  her 
brother  returned,  and  prevented  further  remarks  of  that  nature. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  again  meet,  senor,  when  the  storm  of  war  is 
>ver,  and  no  clouds  may  overshadow  us,"  said  the  younger 
!anales,  as  he  signified  his  intention  at  once  to  depart. 

"  We  shall,  I  trust,"  replied  the  other ;  then  as  if  a  sudden 


00  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

thought  had  struck  him,  he  asked,  "  where  do  you  think  you 
will  find  your  brother?" 

"  To  the  west  of  Camargo,  somewhere— not  far  from  the  road 
to  the  Rio  Grande,"  was  the  response  of  the  young  officer. 

Ju  a  short  time  they  had  separated,  very  sadly,  but  tenderly. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

ITRREA  ON  HIS  WAY  NORTHWARD. 

ON  the  day  which  succeeded  that  on  which  General  Urrea 
bade  his  daughter  prepare  to  go  northward,  he  despatched  his 
troops  toward  a  point  in  that  direction,  where  he  intended  to 
tako  post  temporarily,  near  the  Camargo  road,  for  the  purpose 
of  cutting  off  some  of  the  many  wagon  trains  which  were  used 
to  convey  stores  and  munitions  to  the  American  army.  As 
nothing  of  our  force  was  stirring  in  the  vicinity  save  the  few 
escorts  of  the  wagon  trains,  who  never  left  the  road,  he  feared 
no  reverses  of  his  successor  here,  and  bidding  his  commanding 
colonel  keep  clear  of  that  until  he  rejoined  him,  he  permitted 
the  troops  to  take  up  their  march.  He  was  delayed  from 
following  them  at  once,  by  Donna  Anita,  who  became  suddenly 
ill,  too  ill  to  travel,  and  therefore  it  was  the  morning  of  t  lie 
fourth  day  before  he  was  ready  to  follow  his  division.  He  did 
not  know  what  had  caused  his  daughter  to  recover  her  health 
with  almost  the  same  rapidity  with  which  she  became  ill ;  but 
the  reader  will  understand  it,  when  we  inform  him,  that  before 
dawn  on  that  day,  Vicentio,  the  spy,  had  returned  to  El  Bolsa 
de  Flores,  bringing,  unknown  to  her  father,  a  message  to  the 
lady  from  her  lover,  who  was  already  on  his  route  to  the 
north. 

In  fact,  the  strange  girl  was  now  as  anxious  to  hasten  her 
father,  as  for  the  four  preceding  days  she  had  been  to  delay  him. 
To  this  he  had  no  objection,  but  wished,  by  riding  rapidly,  soon 
to  overtake  the  rear  guard  of  his  little  army,  for  he  did  not 
much  relish  travelling  with  only  his  few  servants  as  an  escort. 
Therefore  for  a  couple  of  days  they  made  very  rapid  progress* 
and  had  nearly  overtaken  the  troops,  stopping  on  the  second  ! 
night  at  a  small  rancho,  which  they  had  passed  that  day  at 
noon.  The  general  had  determined  to  rest  here  for  the  night 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  97 

knowing  that  a  few  hours'  ride  in  the  morning  would  enable 
him  to  regain  them. 

There  was  but  one  decent  house  at  the  rancho,  and  this,  as 
were  also  the  huts  which  surrounded  it,  deserted  by  all  of  the 
inhabitants  except  one  old  negro,  who,  in  answer  as  to  where 
the  people  were,  could  only  say  that  Canalcs  had  been  there  the 
day  before,  and  forced  the  men  to  take  up  arms,  and  that  the 
women,  of  choice,  had  followed  his  camp.  This  was  pleasant 
news  to  Urrea,  for  he  was  made  aware  that  Canales,  whom  he 
greatly  valued,  was  near  him,  and  he  desired  to  form  a  junction 
with  him,  to  attack  some  of  the  northern  posts. 

Posting  a  servant  as  a  sentinel  before  his  door,  the  general 
took  up  his  quarters  with  his  wife  and  daughter,  in  th«  house, 
lie  retired  very  early,  in  order  to  be  ready  for  his  start  at  the 
dawn. 

It  was  near  that  dawn,  that  he  was  awakened  by  the  report 
of  his  sentinel's  musket,  which  was  followed  quickly,  by  the 
reports  of  fire-arms  at  the  door,  and  by  the  sound  of  curses 
and  shouts.  Springing  at  once  to  his  feet,  he  seized  his  weapons 
and  rushed  to  the  door,  which  he  opened  only  to  find  that  he 
was  entirely  surrounded,  that  three  of  his  servants  were  slain, 
iind  himself  wholly  in  the  power  of  the  enemy,  whom  he  judged 
to  be  soldiers  of  the  American  army,  as  they  spoke  in  English. 
Seeing  that  resistance  would  be  useless,  ,he  exclaimed,  to  him 
who  seemed  to  command: 

"  I  surrender  to  you — I  am  General  Urrea — and  claim 
protection  for  my  wife  and  daughter." 

"  So,  ho !  we  are  old  acquaintances,  then,"  cried  the  individual 
whom  he  addressed.  "I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  General  Urrea  and  his  family." 

To  his  surprise,  Urrea  readily  recognized  the  voice  of  Gorin, 
whom  he  still  supposed  to  belong  to  the  Mexican  army,  and 
now  replied,  in  a  different  and  more  haughty  tone : 

"Ah,  is  it  you,  sir?  Then  you  have  made  a  slight  error  in 
this  midnight  attack,  whereby  you  have  slain  my  servants  and 
placed  my  life  in  jeopardy.  You  are  too  rash,  sir." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,  nor  have  I  made  any  mistake,"  replied  the 
robber,  coolly. 

"Sir,  beware  how  you  address  your  superior!  do  not  forget 
the  distance  between  a  captain  and  a  general." 

"  The  distance  between  us,  sir,  is  a  very  convenient  one  for 
putting  a  stop  to  this  conversation,  and  repaying  you  for  having 
7 


03  THE  VOLUNTEKB. 

thwarted  me  in  my  revenge  once.    Do  you  remember  Salado ?" 

"You  are  insolent,  sir!  Are  you  not  aware  that  here  you 
are  to  respect  me  as  your  general,  as  if  all  of  my  troops  were 
around  me?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  respect  no  one,  I  acknowledge  no  general— I  am 
free,  and  general  only  for  myself." 

"  Do  you  not  belong  to  the  Mexican  army  ?" 

«  NO — I  have  had  the  honor  of  a  dismissal,  and  now  have  an 
undoubted  right  to  fight  on  my  own  hook,  with  whom  I  please, 
and  when  it  suits  me." 

"  You  have  turned  robber,  then  ?"  exclaimed  Urrea,  in  a  tone 
of  alarm. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like  the  name,  or  land-pirate,  if  you  like  it  better. 
I  have  some  twenty  friends  here,  who  have  an  ardent  desire  to 
become  rich.  I  am  anxious  to  assist  them,"  replied  the  villain, 
in  the  same  sneering  tone,  and  then  he  added : 

"  You  spoke  of  your  wife  and  daughter — are  they  alone  with 
you,  or  have  they  any  female  friends  with  them  ?" 

"  They  are  alone,  and  I  claim  respect  for  them,  at  least.  I  am 
willing  to  pay  a  ransom  for  them  and  myself." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are,"  sneered  the  other ;  "  but  is  not 
one  who  calls  herself  Edwina  Canales  with  them?  I  am 
exceedingly  anxious  to  find  that  lady." 

"  No ;  she  is  in  the  American  camp,  a  prisoner." 

"A  very  willing  one,  doubtless ;  but  as  she  is  not  here,  where 
is  her  brother?" 

"  With  her,  at  the  American  camp.  But  leaving  this,  name 
your  ransom— I  wish  not  to  be  detained." 

"  O,  we  are  in  no  hurry,  noble  general.  Make  yourself  easy ; 
I  must  see  your  daughter,  and  see  what  her  ransom  is  worth. 
I  never  saw  her  but  once,  and  then  as  it  was  twilight,  and  I 
was  very  busy,  had  but  little  opportunity  to  see  whether  she 
were  pretty  or  not." 

*'  Sir,  I  wish  no  insult ;  I  only  pray  that  you  may  name  your 
ransom.  My  military  chest  is  not  far  from  here— name  your 
price,  and  permit  me  to  despatch  a  servant,  if  I  have  one  left, 
for  the  money,"  cried  the  general,  who  now  felt  a  deep  anxiety, 
as  he  heard  the  coarse  allusions  of  his  captor. 

44 And  I  suppose  you  have  tr.oops  to  guard  your  military  chest 
—it  would  be  exceedingly  easy  to  bring  a  few  of  them  to  take 
care  of  the  ransom.  But  you  don't  trap  me,  sir.  I  will  let  you 
go  and  bring  it,  and  keep  your  wife  and  daughter  as  securities. 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  99 

If  you  come  alone  and  bring  the  money,  you  shall  have  them 
again ;  if  not,  I  reckon  I  can  take  care  of  them." 

As  the  robber  said  this,  there  seemed  to  be  a  fearful  meaning 
in  his  words,  and  Urrea  feared  for  the  worst,  yet  determined  to 
defend  his  wife  and  daughter  to  the  last,  and  responded: 

"  No,  I  will  not  leave  them ;  I  am  willing  to  send  a  messenger 
for  the  money,  but  I  shall  not  leave  them." 

"They  must  be  worth  guarding — I  must  see  the  precious 
jewels,"  cried  the  villain.  "  Just  have  the  goodness  to  introduce 
me."  And  as  he  spoke,  he  advanced. 

"  Stand  back!  you  do  not  enter  this  door,  save  over  ray  dead 
body !"  cried  Urrea,  who  still  retained  his  weapons,  and  now 
raised  his  sword. 

"  Well,  well ;  if  you  wish  to  have  your  quietus,  I  can  accom 
modate  you,"  sneered  the  villain,  drawing  a  pistol  from  his  belt. 
As  he  took  a  deliberate  aim  at  the  breast  of  the  general,  he 
added : 

"  Now  will  you  move  out  of  my  way,  senor  ?" 

"  Never — never !  But  for  God's  sake,  ransom  us,  and  permit 
us  to  go,"  cried  the  other. 

"  Go  and  get  your  ransom— bring  me  ten  thousand  dollars, 
and  you  may  go." 

"  Let  me  take  my  wife  and  daughter  with  me,  and  on  my 
honor — "  ^ 

"Honor!  Ha,  ha!  You  must  think  me  a  fool!  Come^ 
come — this  is  no  time  for  playing  or  tampering.  Get  out  of 
my  way,  or  abide  by  the  consequences."  * 

As  the  villain  said  this,  he  advanced,  but  the  sword  of  Urrea 
was  at  his  breast,  and  with  a  look  of  fiendish  malice,  he  raised 
his  pistol  with  a  deadly  aim ;  one  moment  more,  and  Urrea 
would  have  been  slain,  but  his  daughter,  who  had  been  listening 
in  the  agony  of  terror,  sprang  forward,  screaming : 

"  O,  spare  him — for  the  love  of  Heaven,  spare  my  father !" 

O,  how  beautiful,  even  in  terror,  she  looked,  her  hair 
inbound  and  lying  loose  upon  her  uncovered  neck  and  shoul- 
lers,  for  she  was  in  the  dishabille  of  her  night  dress.  The  eye 
>f  the  robber  gleamed  with  lustful  pleasure  as  he  saw  her,  and 
virile  in  flinging  her  arms  around  her  father's  form  to  attempt 
o  shield  him  with  her  own  body,  she  disabled  his  resistance* 
he  villain  rushed  in  upon  him,  and  with  the  aid  of  two  or  three 
f  his  desperate  followers,  in  a  moment  had  overpowered  and 
ound  him.  While  this  was  done,  the  daughter  uttered  piercin  i 


100  THE  VOLUNTKKK. 

screams,  which,  though  they  echoed  wildly  through  the  air, 
called  vainly  for  help,  for  who  was  near  to  help  them? 

"  You  needn't  make  so  much  noise,  my  pretty  friend,  it  is  of  no 
use;  I  am  in  power,  now,"  cried  the  villain,  as  he  seized  her 
and  attempted  to  stifle  her  cries,  but  as  she  felt  his  touch,  she 
sprang  as  if  his  hands  were  of  flre,  from  his  reach,  and  again 
uttered  a  piercing  shriek. 

At  this  instant  the  sound  of  galloping  horses  was  heard,  the 
sparks  of  fire  from  steel-shod  hoofs  were  seen  in  the  darkness, 
showing  that  horsemen  were  coining  along  the  rocky  road,  and 
before  Gorin  could  again  reach  her  side — for  she  had  fallen  to 
the  earth  near  the  camp  flre  which  illuminated  the  front  of  the 
house  and  showed  the  actors  in  ti.e  scene — the  form  of  an 
armed  cavalier  crossed  the  space  between  them,  and  with  a 
sweeping  blow  of  his  sabre,  would  have  crushed  him,  had  he 
not  darted  aside.  The  cavalier,  however,  did  not  strike  a 
useless  blow;  it  fell  upon  the  head  of  one  of  Gorin's  followers-, 
and  ere  these  could  know  by  whom  or  how  many  they  were 
attacked,  two  more  had  uttered  their  death  yells.  The  clatter 
ing  of  other  hoofs  was  now  heard,  and  Gorin,  struck  with  panic? 
shouted: 

"  To  horse,  boys,  and  be  off;  I  expect  the  whole  pack  is  on 
us !  The  deuce  take  the  hindmost  I"  and  setting  the  example, 
was  in  a  moment  lost  in  the  darkness,  followed  by  all  of  his 
gang  save  the  three  who  had  fallen  by  the  stranger's  sword. 

One  moment-  afterward  Anita  Urrea  opened  her  eyes.  The 
rescuer  had  sprung  from  his  horse,  and  knelt  by  her  side.  As 
she  looked  up  in  his  face,  her  wildly-gleaming  eyes  changed  in 
their  expression,  and  with  a  glad  cry,  she  clasped  her  arms 
around  his  form,  screaming : 

"  O,  my  Bonaventura,  is  it  indeed  you  ?" 

"  None  other,  my  loved  one."  And  then  as  the  other  rider 
came  up,  he  added,  "Dear  sister,  our  friends  are  in  trouble;  do 
aid  this  poor  girl  in  recovering,  while  I  unbind  her  father." 

The  one  whom  he  addressed  was  indeed  Edwina,  who  has 
tened  to  assist  her  friend,  while  the  brother  turned  to  aid  the 
general,  who  lay  helpless  upon  the  ground,  where  he  had  been 
left  by  the  villain  Gorin,  who  had  bound  him,  and  his  wife,  who 
had  fainted  in  the  doorway. 

"Are  you  hurt,  my  general?"  he  asked,  as  he  bent  over  and 
cut  the  cords  which  bound  him. 


THE    VOLUNTEER.  101 

"Is  not  that  Bonaventura  Canales  who  speaks ?  Have  you 
alone  rescued  us  from  our  fearful  peril  ?" 

"  It  is  I  who  am  at  your  side.  The  villains,  whoever  they 
are,  have  fled — all  but  three  of  them,"  replied  the  other. 

"  You  are  a  noble  boy ;  I  owe  to  you  more  than  life,  most 
probably  my  daughter's  honor  1"  exclaimed  the  general.  Then 
as  he  looked  down  upon  the  bodies  of  his  servants,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Poor  Vicentio,  Matteo,  Salado — all  gone.  That  rascal,  Gorin, 
intended  to  make  sure  work  of  it." 

"  Was  it  he  who  attacked  you  ?  O,  would  to  Heaven  I  had 
known  it,  I  would  not  have  missed  my  blow.  But  he  had  force 
with  him,  be  may  return.  We  had  better  leave  this  spot  ere 
the  light  of  day  comes  on,  to  show  the  weakness  of  our  party. 
He  must  have  thought  that  your  whole  regiment  was  upon  him, 
he  decamped  so  rapidly." 

"  I  hope  that  a  part  of  my  force  is  near,"  replied  the  other, 
"  for  I  like  not  to  travel  so  nearly  alone,  in  this  dangerous 
neighborhood." 

At  this  moment  the  call  of  a  bugle  was  heard  near ;  the  long, 
regular  blast,  as  used  in  the  cavalry. 

"  Who  can  that  be  ?  If  it  is  a  body  of  troop,  they  march 
early,"  cried  Urrea. 

"  I  will  soon  see,"  cried  the  young  man,  mounting  his  horse. 
11 1  will  return  in  a  moment,"  he  continued,  as  he  rode  rapidly 
off  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  had  come. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

MYSTERIOUS   DISAPPEARANCE    OF    URREA  AND  HIS  PARTY. 

WHEN  the  young  officer  mounted  his  horse,  he  rode  rapidly 
away  to  the  northward,  led  by  the  occasional  blast  of  the  bugle 
which  seemed  to  be  approaching,  yet  it  was  at  some  distance 
from  him,  for  near  half  an  hour  elapsed  ere  he  came  suffi 
ciently  near  to  hear  the  tramp  of  the  horsemen.  It  was  the 
gray  of  dawn  when  he  paused  and  cautiously  examined  their 
appearance,  to  endeavor  to  learn  if  they  were  friends  or  foes. 
He  did  not  remain  long  in  doubt — one  eager  look  showed  him 
that  they  were  lancers ;  he  knew  that  the  Americans  had  no 
corps  of  that  kind  in  the  country,  and  therefore  these  must  be 


IQ2  THE  VOLUNTEEK. 

fi -i<>n<K  He  dashed  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  side,  and  in  a 
moment  was  in  the  presence  of  his  brother!  One  moment  was 
passed  in  a  warm  and  tender  embrace,  as  each  bent  forward  ou 
their  steeds,  and  then  the  elder  asked: 

"  What  do  you  here ?    Where  art  thou  going,  Bonaventura ?" 

"  I  was  seeking  you,  brother— but  I  have  no  time  to  answer 
questions.  Our  sister  is  near,  with  General  Urrea,  and  his 
daughter  and  wife.  They  may  be  in  danger  now— they  have 
just  escaped  from  imminent  peril." 

"  Peril— what  is  it?"  cried  the  other,  turning  his  steed,  and 
bidding  his  men  follow  at  the  same  time. 

"  Gorin  is  near,"  was  the  reply  of  the  youth,  as  he  sped  back 
toward  the  spot  which  he  so  lately  had  left. 

"Gorin?  O,  grant  that  I  may  find  him!  Where  is  he? 
Have  you  seen  him?" 

"An  half  hour  ago — Urrea  and  his  daughter  were  in  the 
villain's  power.  I  rescued  them — he  fled,  I  know  not  where — 
but  he  must  still  be  near." 

"If  he  is,  he  shall  yet  be  taken,  for,  by  Heaven,  I  sleep  not 
till  the  whole  country  is  roused  for  the  search.  Has  he  a  large 
force?" 

"  Eighteen  or  twenty  villains — who  seem  not  over  brave,  for 
they  all  ran  from  me  and  my  sister  alone,  although  they  thought 
there  were  more  of  us,  very  probably." 

The  party  had  now  nearly  reached  the  ranchero,  though  it 
yet  was  hidden  from  them  by  the  thickness  of  the  chapparal, 
through  which  they  were  riding.  Raising  his  bugle  to  his  lips, 
Licencio  Canales  blew  a  cheerful  peal,  to  give  notice  to  the 
general  that  friends  were  near,  and  then  dashed  on  at  a  gallop 
with  his  men.  It  was  now  broad  day,  and  the  red  sun  was 
tinging  the  tree-tops  with  its  rose  light. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  clearing  where  stood  the  build 
ings  of  the  ranchero,  the  younger  Canales  put  his  horse  to  its 
speed,  and  rode  on  ahead,  to  carry  his  good  news,  but  to  his 
horror,  those  whom  he  expected  to  see  were  not  there.  Bound 
ing  from  his  steed,  he  rushed  into  the  house — not  a  soul  could 
he  find  within  its  walls. 

O,  who  can  tell  his  misery  as  he  gazed  around,  and  called 
upon  their  names,  yet  saw  not,  nor  heard  anything  to  give  an 
idea  of  where  they  were?  The  thought  struck  him  that  they 
might  have  ridden  off  to  meet  him,  but  the  horses  of  Urrea  were 
In  the  stable— that  which  his  sister  rode  alone  was  gone.  There 


THE  VOLUNTEEE.  103 

were  no  marks  of  blood  save  those  which  were  there  when  he 
left,  no  signs  of  any  struggle  having  taken  place — all  was  a  dead 
and  terrible  mystery ! 

The  elder  brother,  as  he  rode  up,  looked  at  the  pale,  horrified 
expression  of  his  brother's  face,  then  gazing  around  and  seeing 
that  he  stood  alone,  seemed  to  divine  the  meaning  of  his  looks. 

" Are  they  gone  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  gone — I  fear  forever  gone !  Gorin  must  have  returned 
and  surprised  them ;  what  could  three  feeble  women  and  one 
man  do  to  resist  him !" 

The  youth  groaned  in  his  unutterable  agony,  as  he  thought 
of  their  danger ;  but  his  brother,  more  thoughtful,  cried,  sternly : 

"  Mount  your  horse !  This  is  no  time  for  delay.  Take  you  ten 
of  the  men,  and  ride  to  the  west.  I  will  divide  them  off  into 
tens,  and  have  them  scour  the  country  in  every  direction.  If 
the  enemy  are  discovered,  let  the  blast  of  a  bugle  call  the  others 
to  the  spot.  Divide,  men,  and  a  thousand  pesos  to  the  first  man 
who  sees  them ;  and  hark!  let  no  man  slay  the  leader  of  the 
robbers,  but  at  all  risks,  secure  him  a  prisoner.  He  is  my  prey ; 
I  have  a  judgment  for  him.  Away !" 

Swiftly  the  lancers,  dividing  off  into  squads,  hastened  to  obey 
their  leader,  and  soon  were  galloping  off  in  contrary  directions. 
At  the  first  order  the  younger  brother  had  spurred  off  with  a 
party,  and  now  in  a  moment  the  elder  turned  his  rein  to  the 
south,  and  the  open  ground  was  left  vacant. 

We  owe  you  an  apology,  reader,  for  neglecting  two  very 
interesting,  or  at  least  two  very  worthy  characters  in  our  story, 
whom  we  have  not  alluded  to  since  our  first  chapter.  We  mean 
the  parents  of  Captain  Blakey.  They  had  heard  of  his  bravery 
at  Monterey,  and  had  learned  with  pride  that  he  was  the  favor 
ite  of  his  general,  beloved  by  his  soldiers,  and  had  turned  out  to 
be  a  man  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  They  had  received  but 
very  few  letters  from  him ;  for  his  duties,  as  well  as  the  few 
opportunities  of  remitting  letters,  had  made  it  impossible  to 
keep  up  a  regular  correspondence. 

The  first  news  which  they  received  of  the  glorious  battle  of 
Buena  Vista,  had  been  through  the  papers,  and  days  of  agoniz 
ing  suspense  had  they  passed,  ere  they  could  learii  that  he  had 
not  fallen  among  the  host  of  noble  Kentuckians  who  on  that 
day  sealed  their  devotion  to  their  country  with  their  heart's 
blood.  But  at  last  the  official  despatches  came,  and  his  name 
was  not  among  the  killed  and  wounded ;  and  then  again  in  a 


104  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

few  days  more  they  received  from  him  a  letter,  describing  the 
dangers  through  which  he  had  passed,  and  assuring  them  of  his 
safety.  His  time  had  nearly  expired,  and  they  were  in  hopes 
soon  again  to  clasp  him  to  their  hearts. 

We  cannot  better  describe  their  feelings,  than  to  give  a  con 
versation  which  passed  between  them,  on  receiving  a  letter 
from  their  son,  which,  as  the  old  gentleman  read  it  aloud  to  his 
lady,  we  are  permitted  to  hear.  It  ran  thus : 

"DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER:— I  write  with  a  glad  heart, 
and  a  hand  trembling  with  pleasure,  to  tell  you  that  within  one 
week  from  this  date  my  time  of  service  expires,  and  I  shall 
return  home,  for  I  don't  believe  we  shall  ever  have  another  fight 
worth  seeing  in  this  part  of  the  country.  Tell  all  of  the  Logan 
County  girls  that  I'll  bring  home  their  sweethearts,  all  except 
the  poor  fellows  who  fell  at  Buena  Vista,  for  my  company  will 
return  with  me,  and  be  paid  off  in  New  Orleans. 

"  I  did  intend  to  bring  home  a  Mexican  wife,  but  I  can't 
prevail  on  her  to  make  peace  with  me,  until  the  war  is  over,  so 
that  I  shall  come  home  without  her,  and  get  things  ready  for 
her  as  soon  thereafter  as  I  can,  for  I  am  bound  to  have  her. 
She  is  such  a  beauty !  Eyes  and  hair  as  black  as  a  thunder 
cloud,  teeth  like  pearls,  a  form  like  a  picture,  and  moreover,  she 
can  flght  like  a  tiger  I  Now  isn't  that  a  wife  worth  having  ? 

"But  laying  aside  joking,  my  dear  parents,  1  am  indeed 
engaged  to  a  noble  girl,  and  shall  marry  her  as  soon  as  she  will 
have  me.  Expect  me  within  a  very  few  days  after  you  get  this 
letter. 

"  I  am  now  and  forever  heartfully  affectionate,  your  son : 

GEORGE  BLAKEY." 

When  Uncle  Ned  had  finished  reading  this  letter,  he  laid  it 
down  upon  his  knee,  then  deliberately  removed  his  spectacles, 
and  waited  for  the  comments  which  he  expected  from  his  wife. 
But  Aunt  Letty  spoke  not;  she  seemed  struck  dumb  either 
with  pleasure  or  surprise,  at  the  contents  of  the  letter.  There 
fore  Uncle  Ned  made  the  first  remark  : 

"  I'm  glad  the  boy  is  coming  home  safe  and  sound.  It  will  be 
a  happy  hour  when  I  take  his  hand  again  I"  said  he. 

"  What  was  it  he  said  about  a  wife,  and  her  black  eyes,  and 
being  one  that  would  flght?"  said  the  old  lady,  abstractedly. 
"  Read  me  over  that  part  of  the  letter,  husband." 

The  kind  old  gentleman  slowly  fixed  his  spectacles  in  their 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  105 

place  again,  unfolded  the  letter,  and  read  again  that  portion  of  it. 

"  Well,  I  can't  see  why  he  couldn't  have  got  a  wife  good 
enough  for  him  amongst  the  girls  of  our  own  neighborhood. 
As  to  the  fighting — why,  if  that's  true,  he's  a  fool  to  have  her, 
and  I'm  sure  blue  eyes  are  prettier  than  black  ones,  any  day/' 
was  her  remark  now. 

"  But  the  boy  wants  to  bring  home  some  curiosity  of  the 
country,  I  suppose,"  said  the  father.  "  His  pay  is  little  enough 
for  such  hard  duty,  and  he  deserves  some  reward  above  it." 

"  1  don't  know  whether  such  a  wife  would  prove  a  reward  or 
a  punishment,"  replied  the  old  lady,  who  did  not  much  admire 
her  son's  description  of  his  intended. 

"Well,  it's  to  be  hoped  that  she's  worth  having.  He  always 
was  a  lad  of  fine  taste — he  takes  after  his  father  in  that  way !" 
And  the  worthy  old  gentleman  chuckled  at  this  double  compli 
ment  to  his  wife  and  himself. 

She,  too,  seemed  pleased  with  it,  for  in  a  very  pleasant  tone, 
she  said,  "  I'm  glad,  at  any  rate,  the  dear  boy  is  coming  home ; 
I'm  sure  that  if  he  brought  a  bear  with  him,  I'd  love  it  for  his 
sake." 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  would ;  and  if  he  brought  a  wife  you  would 
take  to  her  as  tender  as  if  she  were  your  own  daughter.  By  the 
way,  it's  time  George  was  married.  We  are  getting  too  old  to 
be  troubled  with  business,  and  it's  time  we  rested  and  took  a 
little  comfort." 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  replied  the  old  lady.  "  But,  husband,  this 
is  too  good  news  to  keep  from  the  neighborhood.  The  Logan 
County  girls  ought  to  know  that  their  sweethearts  are  coming." 

"  Yes — I'll  soon  have  the  news  scattered,"  replied  the  old 
man ;  "  and  we  must  have  a  real  '  old-time '  barbecue,  to  wel 
come  him — I  wish  he  was  indeed  going  to  bring  his  wife  along 
with  him." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Aunt  Letty,  forgetting  how  decidedly  she 
had  at  first  been  opposed  to  the  idea. 

Reader,  we  know  you  are  in  a  peck  of  trouble  to  know  the 
fate  of  those  whom  we  have  left  literally  in  the  dark,  those 
whom  the  band  of  Canales  were  in  search  of,  in  the  commence 
ment  of  this  chapter,  and  as  soon  as  we  can,  we  will  accommo 
date  you,  proceeding  on  our  way  to  do  so. 


100  THE   VOLUNTEER. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

CAPTUEE  OF  GORIN. — THE  TRIAL. 

A  ,FEW  days  before  Blakey's  term  of  service  expired,  ho 
received  permission  to  return  to  Matamoras  with  his  company, 
Whence  to  take  shipping  for  New  Orleans,  where  they  were  to 
t«  paid  off'  and  discharged. 

It  is  needless  for  us  to  expatiate  on  the  pleasant  thoughts 
which  must  have  filled  those  soldiers'  breasts,  when  they 
knew  that  their  toil  and  peril  was  so  nearly  ended,  that  they 
were  about  to  return  to  their  firesides  and  homes,  rendered 
cheerless  by  their  prolonged  absence;  and  it  were  painful  for  us 
to  look  back  with  them  upon  the  graves  of  Buena  Vista,  where 
sleep  some  of  their  brave  comrades,  some  whose  relatives  will 
never  again  meet  them  on  earth. 

Blakey  started  with  only  his  own  company,  mounted  and  still 
under  all  the  rules  of  military  discipline,  keeping  as  strict  a 
guard  as  if  he  was  advancing  into,  instead  of  leaving,  the 
enemy's  country.  He  had  been  only  two  days  on  the  march, 
yot  had  ridden  fast  and  far,  when  we  again  bring  him  before 
the  reader.  He  always  started  with  the  dawn,  so  as  to  travel 
as  far  as  possible  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  and  on  the  morning  of 
his  third  day  was  in  the  saddle  before  daylight. 

He  rode  rapidly  along  the  road,  listening  to  the  cheering 
sounds  of  the  birds  which  hopped  about  among  the  dewy 
branches,  and  followed  close  by  his  men.  It  was  a  few  moments 
only  after  sunrise,  when  he  saw  a  body  of  men  riding  rapidly 
across  the  road,  a  few  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  him,  and 
take  their  course  down  a  ravine  which  led  to  the  east.  He 
thought  that  they  rode  too  rapidly  for  honest  men,  but  as  he 
only  got  a  passing  glimpse  at  them,  and  cared  not  about  getting 
into  any  skirmishes  now,  he  determined  not  to  notice  them,  or 
attempt  to  see  who  they  were.  But  his  sergeant,  a  quick- 
sighted  backwoodsman,  had  seen  more  than  he,  and  riding  up 
to  his  side,  exclaimed : 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  107 

"  Captain,  hadn't  we  better  overhaul  them  ar  yaller  skins 
ahead  thar?  There's  some  deviltry  agoin'  on  amongst  'em." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so?    I  suppose  they  are  only  peasants." 

"  Peasants  don't  carry  so  many  tools  as  them  ar  fellers,  and 
besides  they  had  women  on  their  horses,  held  there  before  them. 
I  seed  three  petticoats,  sartain." 

"Are  you  sure  ?"  asked  Blakey,  who  had  now  with  his  party 
reached  the  head  of  the  ravine,  down  which  the  others  had 
ridden. 

"  Sartin,  cap'n;  and,  by  golly,  do  you  hear  that?"  he  replied, 
as  a  female  shriek  was  heard  from  far  down  the  ravine,  "  that's 
one  of  'em,  or  Dan  Maple's  a  liar." 

"  Wheel  to  the  right,  and  follow  me,  men !"  was  the  only 
answer  made  by  Blakey,  as  he  spurred  down  the  ravine  at  full 
speed. 

Once  again  he  heard  that  shriek,  and  now  it  seemed  as  if  it 
w;i$  a  tone  that  thrilled  upon  his  heart  strings,  and  he  drove 
liis  noble  steed,  his  black  war-horse,  swift  as  the  wind,  over  the 
rocky  ground.  As  he  emerged  from  the  ravine  and  came  out 
into  a  little  grove  of  oaks  beyond,  he  came  in  sight  of  the  party 
whom  he  pursued,  and  he  was  close  upon  them.  They  had 
dismounted,  and  he  saw  in  a  moment  that  females  were  among  • 
them  by  the  fluttering  of  their  dresses  in  the  morning  breeze. 

Another  sight,  however,  met  his  eye ;  it  was  the  form  of  an 
officer  dangling  by  a  rope  from  a  limb  of  one  of  the  oaks,  to 
which  it  seemed  he  had  just  been  hoisted,  for  he  was  struggling 
horribly.  The  females  were  on  their  knees  upon  the  ground, 
while  some  dozen  ruffians  were  grouped  around  them,  still  a 
dozen  more  being  engaged  in  pulling  upon  the  rope  which  was 
fastened  around  the  neck  of  their  unhappy  victim. 

Without  drawing  rein,  close  followed  by  his  trusty  riflemen, 
lilakey  dashed  on,  and  ere  the  others  fairly  saw  him,  he  was 
upon  them.  One  blow  from  his  gleaming  sabre  and  the  rope 
which  held  aloft  the  struggling  officer  was  severed,  the  next 
moment  the  same  blade  was  crossed  with  the  sword  of  the  leader 
of  the  party,  whom  now  he  recognized  as  Goriu,  and  who  had 
sprung  upon  his  horse  at  the  moment  of  alarm. 

When  each  saw  \ytli  whom  he  had  to  fight,  hate  settled  upon 
both  countenances,  and  each  involuntarily  shouted,  "  To  the 
dcatJt!" 

Without  heeding  the  others,  who  were  already  engaged  with' 
steel,  and  with  their  pistols,  the  two  superior  foes  bent  their 


108  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

sole  attention  to  each  other.  Blows  swift  and  heavy  were  given 
and  parried;  both  were  excellent  swordsmen,  and  neither 
seemed  to  gain  any  advantage  of  the  other,  until  an  exclamation 
of  joy  in  a  tone  but  too  well  remembered  by  him,  caused  Blakey 
to  turn  a  quick  glance  to  one  side  to  see  if  she  was  safe.  That 
instant  enabled  the  quick  eye  of  Gorin  to  detect  an  opening  in 
his  guard,  and  with  the  speed  of  thought  he  took  advantage  of 
it,  passing  his  keen  point  inside  of  the  other's  blade,  and  inflict 
ing  a  fearful  wound  in  the  shoulder  of  Blakey,  who  dropped  his 
weapon  at  the  same  instant. 

Gorin  would  have  finished  his  deed,  but  as  he  glanced  around 
he  saw  that  all  of  his  followers  were  slain  or  taken,  and  also 
saw  Sergeant  Maple  rushing  toward  him  with  his  clubbed  rifle, 
and  thinking  that  he  yet  might  escape,  turned  his  horse's  head 
up  the  ravine,  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had  before  come 
with  his  prey,  and  darted  off  at  full  speed. 

The  sergeant  hastened  to  reload  his  rifle,  but  ere  this  was 
done,  the  villain  had  passed  beyond  his  reach  up  the  ravine. 
At  this  moment  the  blast  of  a  bugle  was  heard  in  that  direction, 
and  in  another  moment  it  was  answered  by  others  from  different 
quarters. 

Blakey,  when  he  fell  from  his  horse,  found  himself  in  a 
moment  in  the  arms  of  Edwina,  who  attempted  to  staunch  his 
bleeding  wound,  while  Anita  and  her  mother  endeavored  to 
restore  General  Urrea  to  consciousness,  for  he  had  been  nearly 
strangled  by  the  cravat  which  Gorin  had  placed  around  his 
neck. 

The  sergeant  was  about  to  turn  to  the  assistance  of  his  captain, 
when  he  saw  Gorin  once  more  appear,  riding  from  the  ravine  at 
full  speed,  endeavoring  to  pass  them,  followed  closely  by  a 
*ma]l  party  of  lancers.  Quick  as  thought  he  raised  his  rifle  to 
his  eye,  and  took  a  steady  aim,  not  at  the  rider,  but  the  steed. 
He  flred,  the  horse  fell  headlong,  pitching  his  rider  some  yards 
in  advance,  who  had  not  time  to  regain  his  feet  ere  the  lancers 
were  upon  him. 

"Slay  him  not—reserve  him  for  me!"  cried  their  leader,  in  a 
tone  of  thunder,  a  voice  which  Gorin,  to  his  terror,  recognized 
^  Hint  of  Licencio  Canales.  • 

Obeying  this  order,  the  lancers  used  their  lassos  instead  of 
their  steel,  and  Gorin  in  a  moment  was  securely  bound. 

The  sergeant,  meantime,  had  quickly  formed  his  men,  ready 

repel  a  charge,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  to  receive  the 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  109 

Mexicans  now  before  them  as  friends  or  foes,  but  lie  was 
somewhat  re-assured  when  he  found  that  the  leader  advanced 
alone. 

"  Thank  God,  it  is  my  brother!"  cried  Edwina;  and  Blakey, 
whose  wound  had  been  partially  staunched  by  the  hand  of  the 
noble  girl,  gave  orders  for  his  men  to  fall  back,  and  Canales  at 
once  rode  up,  and  springing  from  his  horse,  embraced  his  sister, 
and  responded  to  the  salutation  of  Urrea  and  his  daughter. 

In  a  moment  more  another  bugle  was  heard  near,  and  the 
younger  Canales,  with  a  glad  cry  of  joy,  was  seen  to  ride 
toward  them. 

"All  safe,  Anita— Edwina?"  he  cried,  as  he  leaped  from  his 
steed  and  gazed  around ;  then  as  he  saw  Blakey,  wounded  and 
stretched  upon  the  ground,  he  cried : 

"  You  here,  too,  my  noble  friend — and  hurt  ?  What  does  this 
mean  ?" 

"  He  was  hurt  in  once  more  preserving  my  life,  and  saving 
me  from  the  hand  of  our  fiendish  foe,"  replied  Edwina. 

"  Gorin  ?  Was  it  he  who  tore  you  away  from  the  rancho  ? 
Is  he  yet  alive  ?  O,  do  not  say  that  he  has  again  escaped." 

" No — nor  shall  he  now!"  replied  Licencio, pointing  to  where 
the  villain  stood,  with  dark  and  lowering  eyes,  and  a  face  pallid 
with  terror,  between  two  lancers,  and  too  securely  bound  to 
think  of  escape;  "  and  now,  my  sister,  tell  us  how  be  again  got 
you  in  his  power." 

"  It  was  but  a  few  moments  after  Bonaventnra  left  us  this 
morning  to  go  in  search  of  the  party  whose  bugle  was  heard, 
that  the  villain,  who  must  have  watched  and  seen  how  defence 
less  we  were,  rushed  in  upon  us,  bound  us,  and  placing  us  all 
on  horses  before  his  men,  dashed  oft'  at  full  speed,  taunting  us 
at  the  same  time  with  the  coarsest  threats.  He  only  paused 
when  we  arrived  at  this  spot,  and  here  commenced  a  drama 
which  I  fear  would  have  ended  far  differently  for  us  all,  had 
not  this  noble  American  been  sent  by  Providence  to  our  aid." 

"  Yes,  for  the  villain  had  already  commenced  my  murder," 
added  Urrea,  whose  face  was  still  black  with  the  effects  of  his 
strangulation. 

"  Well,  his  time  has  come— he  has  prepared  his  own  means  of 
execution,"  cried  the  elder  Canales,  pointing  to  the  rope  which 
had  been  left  dangling  over  the  limb. 

Then  calling  to  his  lancers,  he  bade  them  bring  the  prisoner 
before  them.  Gorin  turned  pale  and  trembled  in  every  joint, 


HO  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

as  he  was  led  to  the  spot,  for  he  knew  that  now  there  was  no 
escape  for  him.  He  could  have  died  in  strife  without  fear 
without  a  quiver,  but  even  he  could  not  look  upon  death, —  how 
painful,  death  in  the  presence  of  his  enemies,  without  fear.  O, 
it  takes  a  man,  indeed,  to  face  such  a  death  calmly;  he  must 
have  right  and  purity  on  his  side,  or  he  cannot. 

When  Gorin  was  brought  to  the  place  where  but  a  few  mo 
ments  before  he  had  doomed  a  fellow-being  to  the  death  he  was 
about  to  suffer,  he  looked  around  as  if  in  hopes  to  see  one  pity 
ing  face,  but  his  glance  was  in  vain.  The  females  had  turned 
their  heads  away,  and  he  looked  upon  men,  who  knew  him  for 
the  deep-dyed,  crime-burdened  villain  that  he  was. 

"  You  will  not  murder  me,  a  prisoner,  without  trial,  or  a 
chance  for  my  life?"  he  asked,  in  tones  of  misery. 

"  No,  not  without  a  trial,"  replied  Licencio  Canales,  in  tones 
so  deep,  so  calm,  so  thrilling,  that  they  sunk  deep  into  the  heart 
of  the  prisoner  like  words  of  eternal  doom.  "  No  not  without 
a  trial.  But  first  place  that  rope  around  his  neck,  then  let 
twenty  men  take  the  other  end.  I  wish  all  ready,  if  you  are 
proved  guilty." 

"  Mercy — mercy,  for  the  love  of  God,  spare  me !"  moaned  the 
unhappy  wretch. 

"Did  you  ever  listen  to  the  cries  of  mercy,  dog!"  cried 
Canales.  "  But  to  the  trial.  I  charge  you  with  the  murder  of 
my  gray-haired  parents!  a  thousand  crimes  have  you  com 
mitted,  yet  that  one  is  all  I  name." 

"  I  charge  you  with  the  same !"  cried  the  younger  brother. 

"And  I,"  said  Edwina,  in  a  low,  firm  voice. 

"I  charge  you  with  treason  and  deserting  your  country's 
flag,  and  with  murdering  your  countrymen  on  the  field  of  Buena 
Vista,"  said  Blakey.  „ 

"And  I— and  I,"  echoed  each  of  the  riflemen,  who  had  gathered 
noar. 

The  prisoner  seemed  unable  to  breathe— his  frame  quivered 
like  an  aspen  leaf,  hot  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes— he  seemed 
for  the  first  time  in  all  his  life  to  exhibit  one  sign  of  human 
feeling.  When  the  last  echo  of  his  accusers'  voices  died  away, 
Canales  again  spoke  in  the  same  stern  and  thrilling  tone : 

"  You  have  heard,  now  dare  you  say  that  all  of  these  charges 
are  not  true  ?  Speak,  wretch,  are  you  not  guilty  ?" 

"  Guilty— guilty ;  but  mercy,  mercy !" 

"  You  gave  it  not  to  my  gray-haired  parents." 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  Ill 

"  O,  spare  me  but  for  an  hour!  I  am  not  fit  to  die." 

«  ft0 — and  were  you  to  live  au  eternity  of  innocence  now,  you 
could  not  wash  away  the  past.  In  one  minute  more  you  must 
die !" 

"  O,  mercy,  give  me  but  an  hour !"  gasped  the  wretch. 

The  only  answer  was  a  sign  from  Canales  to  the  lancers  who 
held  the  rope,  and  in  another  moment  the  wretch  was  choking, 
struggling,  and  moaning  horribly  in  the  air;  hanging  by  the 
same  rope  which  he  had  destined  for  Urrea.  It  was  a  terrible 
but  a  just  retribution. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

LOVE  AND  DUTY  WAVERING.— -LOVE  WEIGHS  DOWN  THE 
SCALP:. 

THE  next  morning's  sun  found  the  whole  party,  whom  we 
left  in  our  last  chapter  witnessing  the  end  of  Gorin,  at  the  camp 
of  General  Urrea.  Blakey  was  weak  with  his  injury,  but  it 
was  only  a  flesh  wound, he  was  not  confined  to  his  bed,  but  was 
able,  with  the  rest  of  the  party,  to  join  the  general  at  his  break 
fast  table.  No  truce  had  been  spoken  of  between  them,  yet 
neither  he  nor  his  men  looked  upon  these  Mexicans  as  enemies, 
nor  did  they  regard  him  as  a  foe.  The  circumstances  under 
which  they  had  met,  had  made  them  friends. 

"  You  are  on  your  return  to  your  country,  I  am  told,"  said 
Urrea  to  our  hero,  as  they  sat  at  the  table. 

"  Yes,  general,  for  I  hope  that  this  war  is  over.  It  has  been 
a  sad  one  for  both  countries — one  in  which  much  noble  blood 
has  been  lost — one  which  neither  government  can  gain  by." 

"  I  wish  that  it  was  over,  or  that  we  could  even  see  a  pros 
pect  of  its  termination,"  replied  Urrea. 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  near  its  conclusion  ?" 

"  No— hardly  at  its  commencement.  My  countrymen  are  as 
stubborn  as  mules.  They  will  struggle,  even  though  defeated 
on  every  hand ;  you  must  crush,  nay  extirpate,  before  you  can 
conquer  them  1  Our  climate,  our  wild  country,  all  favor  us, 
and  act  against  you.  Your  country  will  find  the  expense  of 
such  a  war  ruinous,  and  will  give  it  up  in  the  end  in  disgust." 

"  Possibly  so,"  said  Blakey,  doubtingly ;  at  the  same  time 


112  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

adroitly  changing  the  conversation,  and   mentioning  that  he 
intended  to  resume  his  journey  on  that  morning. 

To  this  both  Urrea  and  Edwina's  brother  made  objection, 
hedging  him  to  remain  and  accept  of  their  hospitalities  until  he 
hud  at  least  recovered  from  his  wound.  Edwina  spoke  not;  but 
her  looks  told  the  wishes  of  her  heart,  for  when  she  heard  him 
speak  of  going,  her  face  turned  pale,  her  lips  quivered,  aud  her 
dark  eyes  grew  moist  in  a  moment.  But  Blakey  was  firm,  and 
gave  orders  to  his  men  to  make  ready  for  the  march. 

However,  he  did  not  go  on  that  day;  and  the  only  way  we 
can  account  for  it,  is  by  giving  the  result  of  an  interview  which 
occurred  immediately  after  the  above  conversation  ensued — an 
interview  between  Blakey  and  Edwina.  They  had  retired  to 
her  tent  to  converse  for  a  moment  before  parting,  and  here  he 
renewed  again  his  request  for  her  then  to  become  his.  He 
talked  in  this  wise: 

"  It  ia  useless,  dear  one,  for  us  to  await  the  close  of  this 
tedious  war;  it  would  be  cruel  to  delay  our  happiness.  We  are 
both  determined  not  again  to  join  in  it — why  should  we  not  be 
united  ?" 

"  It  is  indeed  hard  for  us  to  separate — it  seems  like  death  to 
me,"  she  replied.  "  But  how  can  I  leave  my  brothers?  They 
will  surely  remain." 

"  Dear  one,  I  lovo  you  more  than  they  can !" 

"  That  were  difficult,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "  But  again 
there  is  another  difficulty !" 

"And  it—" 

"  Is  that  I  fear  that  they  will  not  consent  to  our  union ;  Licen- 
cio  is  a  deadly  foe  to  your  nation.  He  has  been  deeply,  woefully 
wronged  by  them  I" 

"  But  I  have  never  wronged  him !" 

"  No ;  on  the  contrary,  you  have  deserved  his  eternal  grati 
tude.  But  he  loves  me  and  has  strong  prejudices." 

"  I  can  overcome  them,"  replied  the  persevering  suitor. 

"  You  have !  noble  frieud,  you  have !"  said  a  soft,  pleasant 
voice  in  the  door-way  of  the  tent.  "An  unintentional  listener 
am  I ;  I  heard  my  name  mentioned,  and  that  caused  me  to  hear 
the  following  remarks." 

"My  brother!"  said  Donna  Edwina,  blushing  and  hiding  her 
face  against  her  lover's  shoulder. 

"  Yes,  dear  sister,  and  a  brother  who  will  never  cross  your 
path  of  happiness  with  a  single  cloud.  This  noble  American 


THE   VOT.TJNTEEK.  113 

has  asked  your  hand;  your  heart  he  had  no  occasion  to  ask  for." 

The  beautiful  girl  blushed,  but  answered  not,  while  her 
brother  continued; 

"  It  will  be  better  for  you  to  be  removed  from  the  perils  of 
this  distracted  country.  It  is  my  wish  that  you  take  him.  Be 
has  won  a  right  to  you,  by  his  repeated  services ;  you  should 
devote  a  life  to  him  which  he  has  thrice  saved!  Take  him !  he 
is  worthy  of  you." 

The  fair  girl  took  the  hand  of  Blakey;  then  gazing  for  a 
moment  upon  her  brother's  face,  burst  into  tears — tears  of 
mingled  grief  and  gladness. 

"  How  can  I  leave  you,  my  brother  ?"  she  sighed. 

"  It  is  but  temporary,  dearest;  if  I  survive  this  war,  I  will 
visit  you,  in  your  happy  northern  home!" 

"And  Bonaventura?" 

"  He  shall  even  now  go  with  you,  if  he  will.  Let  us  go  forth 
and  meet  him."  • 

They  went  out,  and  before  the  tent  of  General  Urrea  saw  the 
general,  his  daughter  and  Bonaventura,  standing,  in  conver 
sation. 

"Ah !"  said  the  general  to  Blakey,  smiling,  as  he  saw  him  ap 
proach  slowly,  arm  in  arm  with  Edwina.  "  You  have  determined 
not  to  leave  us  this  morning,  have  you  not?" 

"  They  will  not  go  until  to-morrow,"  replied  Licencio, 
answering  for  Blakey. 

"  They  ?  echoed  the  general.  "  Surely  you  mean  that  he 
intends  taking  a  prisoner  with  him?" 

"  Yes,  he  has  made  a  captive  of  my  sister/' 

"  Well,  that  is  all  right;  I  approve  his  taste,  and  admire  his 
courage.  I  congratulate  you  on  your  capture  sir." 

"  I  thank  you,  general ;  I  think  I  have  much  cause  for  con 
gratulation." 

Licencio  now  turned  to  his  young  brother,  who  did  not  seem 
much  astonished  at  the  turn  which  things  were  taking,  and 
said: 

"  Will  you  go  to  the  north  with  your  sister, Bonaventura?" 

"  North  with  my  sister  1"  exclaimed  the  youth,  in  surprise. 
1  No,  brother,  I  wish  to  remain  and  serve  my  general,  if  he  will 
permit,  and  forgive  my  late  error  in  disobeying  his  orders." 

"  Bless  you,  boy,  I  had  forgotten  that  entirely!"  replied  the 
old  general ;  "  and,  by  the  way,  I  was  to  have  had  you  shot  for 
it.    But  you'll  not  be  troubled  about  it  again." 
8 


114  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

"  Then  I  may  remain  and  serve  under  your  banner  ?"  asked 
the  youth. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  responded  the  general;  then  turn 
ing  to  his  daughter,  who  stood  pale  and  breathless,  listening  to 
the  conversation,  he  smilingly  added,  "  if  you  wont  make  love 
to  my  daughter." 

"  I  had  rather  serve  without  conditions,  senor,"  replied  the 
youth,  blushing  as  deeply  as  she  did. 

"  The  only  way  that  I  can  keep  you  from  making  love  to  my 
daughter,  it  appears  then,  will  be  to  make  you  marry  her!" 
responded  the  general,  laughing. 

"Such  an  order  would  be  extremely  pleasant  to  me,  senor — 
one  which  I  should  not  hesitate  to  obey,"  replied  the  youth. 

uAnd  you,  child — how  would  such  an  order  please  you?" 
asked  the  father,  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to  his  fair  daughter's 
brow. 

*'  I  will  ever  obey  the  wishes  of  my  dear  father,"  replied  she. 

"  Then  you  and  Bonaventura  may  settle  the  matter  between 
you — no,  upon  second  thought,  I'll  do  it  for  you !" 

Then  turning  to  Edwina  and  Blakey,  he  asked: 

"  When  will  your  union  take  place  ?" 

"  This  hour,  if  the  lady  makes  no  objection,"  replied  Blakey. 

"  Which  of  course  she  will  not  do;  so  that  I  can  safely  send 
for  our  regimental  chaplain  and  have  a  double  job  performed — 
for  I  may  as  well  put  a  stop  to  those  young  people's  love-making 
at  once." 

Blakey  turned  to  Edwina  when  he  spoke,  and  in  her  warm 
look  of  love  he  saw  no  sign  of  the  objection  alluded  to ;  there 
fore,  the  general  at  once  sent  an  orderly  for  the  priest.  The 
latter  soon  appeared,  and  there,  in  that  rude  camp,  the  marriage 
ceremony  was  performed  between  those  four  young  and  noble 
persons ;  not  with  all  the  show  and  pomp  which  is  usual  beneath 
cross-crowned  domes  or  marble  palaces,  but  with  vows  full  as 
binding,  solemn  and  sacred  as  could  be  taken  there.  All  of 
that  day  was  spent  by  both  the  troops  and  their  leaders  as  a 
i<  >iiviil,  but  on  the  next  morning  Blakey  and  his  few  followers 
prepared  to  depart  on  their  route  to  the  Brazos,  whence  they 
were  to  embark  for  New  Orleans,  on  their  way  to  Kentucky. 

This  made  one  more  painful  scene  in  our  history  necessary — 
the  parting  of  Edwina  with  her  brothers.  This  took  place  in 
the  tent  which  had  been  assigned  to  her  and  her  husband,  and 
as  none  savo  the  three  were  present,  we  cannot  describe  the 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  115 

scene.  After  this  last,  painful  interview,  Edwina  came  forth  to 
where  her  husband  and  his  riflemen  awaited  her.  Her  own 
black  steed  was  saddled  for  her  use,  and  a  band  of  her  brother's 
troops  were  in  their  saddles,  ready  to  escort  the  party  as  far  as 
the  Rio  Grande  on  their  route. 

Edwina  came  forth,  sad  and  pale,  but  her  step  was  firm  and 
resolute ;  yet  her  eyes  were  heavy  with  tears,  for  she  was  about 
to  separate  from  her  brothers — her  only  living  relatives — per 
haps  forever.  This  she  felt  the  more,  that  she  left  them  amid 
the  perils  and  dangers  of  war— a  war  which  might  deprive  her 
of  both  of  them.  Licencio  led  her  to  Blakey's  side,  and  while 
he  aided  in  placing  her  on  her  saddle,  said  to  him,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  emotion : 

"  We  give  you  our  dearest  treasure,  noble  American ;  we 
know  that  you  will  guard  and  cherish  her.  You  have  won  her 
by  your  own  prowess.  Take  her,  and  God  bless  you !" 

For  a  moment  his  voice  choked  with  his  emotion,  and  then 
he  continued: 

"Should  peace  ever  come  to  this  unhappy  country,  we  may 
meet  again ;  but  while  this  war  continues,  I  shall  be  where  foes 
are  thickest.  You  will  often  hear  the  name  of  Licencio  Cunales 
spoken,  for  I  have  brave  men  under  me — men  who  love  liberty, 
and  will  never  yield  an  inch  to  your  forces  save  with  life !" 

"  I  hope  that  peace  will  soon  come  to  restore  them  to  their 
homes,"  replied  Blakey. 

"  I  fear  me  that  hope  is  vain,"  responded  the  other,  with  a 
sigh,  "  and  I  dare  not  dream  of  it.  I  believe  not  in  presenti 
ments,  yet  sad  thoughts  will  come  to  my  heart — thoughts  which 
say  we  shall  never  meet  again ;  but  if  I  fall,  it  will  not  be  with 
discredit." 

Edwina  wept,  as  she  heard  this;  but  she  spoke  not.  Her 
husband  alone  answered: 

"  Why  cannot  you  retire  from  service,  as  do  I  ?  O,  if  you  will 
but  go  to  my  home,  a  tender  welcome  shall  there  await  you ! 
This  is  not  your  native  land." 

"  No,  but  it  is  mine  by  adoption ;  and  sooner  would  I  rend 
my  own  heart  from  my  body  than  desert  it  now,  in  its  hours  of 
darkness." 

"  T  hen  we  must  bid  you  farewell — though  with  the  hope  of  a 
speedy  meeting !" 

"  Farewell,  my  sister  and  my  brother!"  cried  Licencio. 

"Farewell,  my  own  Edwina— farewell,  my  brother!     Our 


110  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

hearts  go  with  you!"  cried  the  younger  brother.  And  both 
ouce  more  pressed  their  lips  to  Edwina's  brow,  as  she  bent  fron] 
her  saddle. 

The  sobs  of  Anita,  who  had  before  parted  with  Edwina,  could 
be  heard  from  within  her  tent,  and  the  scene  was  too  painful  to 
bo  kept  up.  Therefore,  grasping  again  the  hands  of  General 
Urrea  and  the  two  Canales,  and  breathing  again  a  warm  adieu, 
Blakey  rode  away,  attended  by  his  double  escort.  On  the  same 
day,  Urrea  and  Canales  broke  up  their  camp  and  marched  t<j 
the  southwest,  occupying  again  the  passes  of  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  STORM. — FEARFUL  PERIL. 

BRIGHT  and  beautiful  was  the  morning  when  Blakey  and  his 
sweet  bride  set  sail  from  the  Brazos  de  Santiago  on  their  return 
to  the  United  States.  They  sailed  in  a  small  schooner,  the 
"Jenny  Hunt,"  because  she  was  the  first  vessel  homeward 
bound,  and  they  were  anxious  to  reach  port  as  soon  as  possible. 
The  whole  of  Blakey's  company  was  crowded  on  board  the 
little  craft,  which,  being  a  Baltimore  built  vessel,  was  indeed  a 
beauty  in  her  own  way.  Her  captain,  Ned  Boyntou,  was  not 
only  a  capital  sailor,  but  a  noble,  warm-hearted  fellow ;  and 
when  Blakey  found  himself  afloat  in  this  little  craft,  with  a  fair 
breeze  and  a  flowing  sheet,  he  felt  contented  and  happy. 

But  how  often  do  our  fairest  hopes  become  clouded !  how 
often  are  we  awakened  by  dread  realities  from  our  brightest 
dreams !  On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  out,  though  the  sky 
was  clear  and  the  wind  still  fair  though  light,  Blakey  observed 
that  Captain  Boynton  paced  the  deck  with  an  uneasy  tread, 
and  that  his  brow,  as  he  looked  to  the  northward,  wore  a  cloud 
of  anxiety.  Approaching  him,  he  asked : 

'  Do  you  think  this  wind  will  last  us  to  get  in,  captain  ?" 

"  No,  sir— I'm  afraid  not.  There's  a  norther  brewing,  or  the 
sky  wouldn't  be  so  clear  as  it  is;  bnt  I  reckon  if  it  does  come, 
my  Jenny  can  weather  it.  She's  a  staunch  craft  of  her  size !" 

As  the  captain  predicted,  it  was  not  long  before  the  wind 
veered  around  to  the  northward,  coming  at  first  iu  fitful  squalls, 


THE  VOLUNTEER.  117 

then  settling  down  Into  a  breeze  which,  as  the  sails  were 
trimmed  aft,  laid  her  lee  gunwales  down  to  the  water. 

"All  hands  to  reef  sail !"  cried  the  captain,  as  he  saw  that  his 
vessel  could  not  bear  all  her  canvas. 

Soon  the  three  fore  and  aft  sails  were  close  reefed,  and  the 
lighter  sails  snugly  furled;  then  laying  as  near  to  her  course  as 
she  could,  the  schooner  kept  on,  plunging  into  the  heavy  sea, 
and  quivering  under  the  force  of  the  fast  rising  gale. 

As  night  came  on,  the  wind  increased,  and  ineii  who  had 
faced  the  perils  of  Monterey  and  Buena  Vista  with  a  smile,  now 
began  to  pale  and  tremble — for  here  was  an  enemy  which  they 
could  not  quell.  When  the  sun  went  down,  it  settled  in  a  cloud- 
bank — a  sign  ever  ominous  of  a  gale — and  every  one  on  board 
of  the  schooner  was  on  deck  to  witness  it,  as  if  there  was  a  pre 
sentiment  among  them  that  this  was  the  last  time  that  they 
should  ever  gaze  upon  the  god  of  day.  Edvvina,  leaning  upon 
her  husband's  arm,  noted  the  look  of  care  upon  his  countenance, 
and  as  she  saw  it,  said : 

"  We  have  new  perils  to  face,  dear  husband,  have  we  not?'1 

He  looked  in  her  face  a  moment  and  saw  that  all  was  calm 
and  peaceful  there,  then  answered: 

"  I  know  that  you  are  brave,  my  dear  one ;  therefore  I  need 
not  conceal  from  you  that  we  are  about  to  meet  a  very  heavy 
storm — one  that  perchance  will  place  us  in  much  peril." 

"  Thank  God  we  are  together  then !"  she  replied.  "  If  one 
dies,  then  will  the  other  also ;  come  what  may,  we  cannot  now 
be  separated."  < 

"  True,  my  own  one ;  be  it  life  or  death,  your  fate  and  mine 
are  linked  forever." 

The  lady  was  about  to  respond,  when  Captain  Boynton 
coming  aft,  said: 

"  The  deck  is  getting  very  wet  and  unpleasant,  madam — let 
me  beg  you  to  go  below ;  it  is  more  comfortable  there." 

"  You  are  kind,  sir,  but  1  prefer  remaining  on  deck  where  my 
husband  is;  I  can  far  better  face  a  real  danger,  than  fancy  an 
unseen  one." 

"  Be  it  as  you  like,  lady ;  but  in  less  than  one  hour  the  sea 
will  wash  our  decks  fore  and  aft,  if  it  continues  to  rise  as  it 
does  now." 

The  vessel  again  began  to  plunge  heavier  and  heavier  under 
the  force  of  the  rising  gale,  and  the  captain  soon  saw  that  her 
canvas  must  be  shortened  in.  Though  with  regret,  he  ordered 


118  THE  VOLUNTEEK. 

both  the  mainsail  and  jib  to  be  taken  in,  and  then  taking  a  bal 
ance  reef  in  the  foresail,  put  her  helm  a  lee  and  brought  her  to. 

For  a  time  she  lay  to,  like  a  duck ;  but  the  gale  increased,  the 
waves  became  higher  and  more  broken,  and  every  little  while 
broke  with  tremendous  force  across  her  decks,  forcing  the  crew 
to  cling  to  the  rigging  to  save  themselves  from  being  swept 
overboard. 

"  Lady,  you  must  go  below !  Captain  Blakey,  I  must  insist 
upon  her  being  removed  from  danger,  at  least;  I  shall  have  to 
batten  down  the  hatches;  we  haven't  got  half  of  this  gale  yet!" 
cried  the  captain,  in  an  excited  tone. 

But  it  was  in  vain  that  he  insisted.  The  brave  girl  would  not 
shrink  from  this  danger,  for  she  knew  that  she  had  passed  even 
greater  perils  than  this  before — and  she  would  not  now  shrink 
from  this.  Therefore  she  bade  Captain  Boynton  batten  down 
his  hatches  as  soon  as  he  liked,  for  there  was  no  need  to  wait 
for  her  to  go  below — she  would  not  leave  her  husband's  side. 

Before  midnight, the  gale  had  seemed  to  reach  its  height;  and 
grand,  as  it  was  terrific,  appeared  the  scene.  Above,  the  great 
black  clouds  rushed  wildly  along,  groaning  out  thunder,  and 
spitting  forth  tongues  of  jagged  lightning;  the  wind  shrieked 
like  supernatural  voices  through  the  rigging.  Below,  the  huge 
waves,  dark  at  their  base,  but  white  upon  their  crests,  rose  and 
fell  and  tumbled  over  one  another,  as  if  an  earthquake  was 
pitching  a  world  of  snow-capped  mountains  together.  And  like 
a  broken  winged  bird  did  the  strained  little  schooner  buflet  with 
this  tumultuous  mass — now  drenched  and  almost  hidden  in 
spray,  then  topping  the  crests  of  the  waves,  as  if  she  was  about 
to  take  a  flight  in  the  upper  air.  When  the  lightning  flashes 
illumined  the  sky  and  water,  each  face,  and  the  expression 
thereon,  could  be  seen  as  plain  as  if  it  were  at  noonday. 

The  commander  of  the  vessel  had  taken  the  helm  himself,  and 
as  the  little  craft  came  up  and  fell  off  before  the  gale,  watched 
each  sea  with  deep,  anxiety,  and  with  consummate  skill  and 
coolness  managed  to  make  her  meet  them  easy.  Things  now 
appeared  favorable  for  her  to  weather  the  gale,  if  it  did  not  in 
crease  any  higher,  for  they  were  well  over  to  windward  in  the 
gulf,  as  they  supposed,  and  had  no  lee  shore  to  endanger  them. 

At  last  daylight  came,  and  with  it  the  sight  of  another  sail, 
which  had  been  bnileting  the  storm  like  themselves.  And  now 
the  clouds  cleared  away,  and  the  red  sun  rose  above  the  waters, 
gilding  each  wave  crest  and  making  the  sea  in  the  distance  look 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  119 

like  molten  gold.  Yet  even  at  this  moment,  when  all  appeared 
to  be  brightening,  and  hope  began  to  cheer  each  heart— when, 
all  was  brightly  changing — as  comes  a  death-knell  amid  the 
music  of  a  marriage  feast,  came  up  a  cry  from  below  decks  in 
the  schooner :  "A  leak !  a  leak !" 

It  was  but  too  true!  The  gushing  dash  of  water  in  the  hold 
could  be  heard,  and  a  hasty  examination  proved  that  several  of 
the  bow  planks  had  been  started,  and  that  the  water  was  rush 
ing  in  with  fearful  rapidity.  The  pumps  were  instantly  manned, 
but  the  face  of  the  captain  paled  as  he  saw  the  steady  increase 
of  the  water,  and  knew  that  his  two  small  pumps  would  be  of 
no  avail  to  keep  her  free. 

Now  the  gaze  of  each  was  fixed  upon  the  sail  in  sight,  which 
seemed  to  be  a  steamer — one  of  the  large  government  transports, 
so  useful  upon  the  coast  during  the  war.  She  was  not  more 
than  a  mile  distant,  yet  the  sea  was  too  rough  for  her  to  attempt 
to  bear  away  to  the  schooner  without  great  danger.  But  this 
was  the  only  hope  for  the  hapless  crew  and  passengers  of  the 
latter,  for  she  was  settling  fast,  and  had  but  one  small  boat, 
which  could  not  hold  one-tenth  of  her  passengers,  if  it  could 
for  a  moment  live  in  so  rough  a  sea. 

Captain  Boynton  at  once  gave  orders  to  hoist  the  American 
flag  Union  down  in  the  forerigging — the  usual  signal  of  distress ; 
and  its  effect  upon  the  steamer  was  watched  for  with  deep  in 
terest  by  many  who  felt  that  their  lives  depended  upon  the 
aid  which  they  thus  implored. 

We  will  now  step  on  board  the  steamer — the  "  James  L. 
Day  " — commanded  by  Captain  Wood,  a  good  seaman,  brave 
man,  and  a  warm-hearted,  generous  fellow.  When  the  dawn 
showed  him  the  schooner  under  his  lee,  Captain  Wood  turned 
to  his  mate,  Mr.  Hudson,  and  as  he  pointed  her  out,  remarked : 

"A  nasty  time  must  that  little  tub  have  had,  in  such  a  blow 
as  this!  We've  had  our  hands  full;  I  don't  see  how  she  has 

stood  it  so  well."  fSoocxoft  Libnuy 

''I  reckon  she  has  felt  it;  she  lays  mighty  low  in  the  water, 
and— by  the  pipers  of  Moses,  there  it  goes!"  replied  the  male. 

Ills  last  ejaculation  was  caused  by  the  signal  of  distress  being 
hoisUul  on  board  the  schooner.  Captain  Wood,  as  he  saw  this, 
looked  for  a  moment  at  the  heayy  sea,  then  at  his  mate. 

"  What  can  we  do  for  them,  Hudson  ?  It  will  be  running  the 
risk  of  our  own  lives  to  bear  away,  with  buch  a  sea  as  this 
running." 


120  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

The  mate,  who  had  been  steadily  regarding  the  schooner  for 
some  time  through  his  spy-glass,  replied:  . 

"Risk  or  no  risk,  there  is  another  signal  aboard  that  craft 
which  neither  you  nor  I  will  desert  in  peril." 

"  What  is  it— is  she  showing  more  signals?" 

"There  is  a  petticoat  aboard  of  her!  I  can  see  a  woman 
clinging  to  the  main  rigging." 

"  Then  we  will  do  something  for  them,  or  die  in  trying!"  re 
sponded  the  noble  Wood.  "Were  they  all  men,  they  might 
lake  men's  chances  as  we  do;  but  a  woman  makes  our  duty  a 
different  matter.  Tell  the  engineer  to  fire  np !  we  must  try  and 
get  some  steam  on  her,  for  she  can't  show  any  canvas  yet." 

Glad  were  the  hearts  of  those  who  stood  upon  the  spray- 
washed  decks  of  the  Jenny  Hunt,  as  they  saw,  by  the  black 
smoke  arising  from  the  stacks  of  the  steamer,  that  she  was  pre 
paring  to  come  to  their  rescue,  and  again  hope  began  to  warm 
tlu-ir  fear-frozen  hearts. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  steamer  began  slowly  to  edge 
down  toward  them,  ever  keeping  head  on  to  the  sea — for  she 
was  managed  by  one  who  had  before  aided  in  reaching,  in  many 
a  fearful  storm,  his  fellow-beings  in  peril.  Captain  Wood  had 
taken  his  first  lessons  in  such  work  while  commanding  a  wreck 
er  on  the  reefs  of  Florida;  and  his  perfect  skill  in  the  present 
case,  showed  that  he  had  not  forgotten  his  former  experience. 

A  long  hour  did  it  seem  to  those  on  board  the  schooner,  that 
was  spent  in  edging  down  the  steamer,  till  she  gained  a  position 
about  a  cable's  length  distant  on  her  weather  bow,  which  made 
a  lee  for  her  boats  in  their  attempr  to  reach  the  schooner.  The 
latter  was  settling  very  fast;  her  decks  were  almost  even  with 
the  water's  edge,  but  three  well-manned  whale  boats  now  bore 
down  from  the  steamer,  and  in  a  few  moments  her  whole  crew 
— Blukey,  his  bride,  and  the  unfortunate  Captain  Boynton, 
stood  in  safety  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamer. 

Within  a  half  hour,  while  they  were  gazing  sadly  upon  the 
gallant  little  craft  which  had  borne  them  through  the  heaviest 
of  the  furious  gale,  they  saw  her  pitch  forward,  reel  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  disappear  from  sight— not  leaving  a  vestige  to  mark 
IMT  fate  to  the  wandering  mariner.  The  gale  having  commenced 
falling  as  the  sun  arose,  had  so  abated  before  noontide,  that  the 
steamer  again  renewed  her  course  toward  New  Orleans,  where 
she  arrived  two  days  after. 


THE   VOLUNTEER.  121 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  MAIL-CARKIEIl  AND  HIS  NEWS. 

DID  you  ever  see  a  western  mail-carrier,  reader  ?  We  have, 
for  there  are  many  portions  of  our  "  great  West"  which  are  vis 
ited  but  once  a  week  by  the  mail,  which  is  carried  on  horseback 
over  the  mountain  paths,  and  through  forest  trails  which  would 
not  be  passable  to  the  mail  coaches  which  traverse  more  settled 
parts. 

It  was  not  quite  two  weeks  after  the  incidents  of  our  last 
chapter,  that  the  carrier  of  the  mail  destined  for  the  "  Rural 
Choice"  neighborhood,  was  jogging  along  at  a  very  easy  pace — 
whistling  a  stanza  now  of  one  and  then  of  another  negro  song, 
making  a  hash  of  music.  Had  lie  been  aware  of  the  good  news 
which  was  in  his  mail-bag,  perhaps  he%iight  have  touched  his 
old  gray  horse  with  the  rusty  spur  at  his  right  heel — for  he 
wore  but  one ;  yet  to  him  it  mattered  little  whether  he  bore  the 
news  of  life  or  death,  of  joy  or  sadness,  so  that  he  made  his 
usual  time  and  got  his  pay  therefor. 

It  was  therefore  near  the  eventide,  when  the  carrier  got  in 
sight  of  Rural  Choice;  and  as  he  saw  the  eyes  of  several  who 
waited  were  fixed  upon  him,  he  spurred  up  his  nag  and  went  in 
at  a  very  respectable  trot.  Before  the  store  quite  a  group  of 
men  were  assembled — for  now  the  arrivals  of  the  mail  possessed 
a  new  interest  to  them,  as  it  had  done,  in  fact,  ever  since  their 
friends  and  relatives  had  gone  to  Mexico. 

"  Come,  hurry  up  your  cakes !"  was  the  cry  of  several,  as  the 
mail-rider  approached;  "you  come  like  a  sick  snail.  What's 
the  news  ?  Anything  from  Mexico  ?" 

"  Don't  know — aint  in  the  habit  of  lookin'  in  the  mail-bags 
myself!"  replied  the  rider,  at  the  same  time  pitching  the  leath 
ern  bag  into  the  door  of  old  Mr.  Blakey's  store. 

The  latter  hastened  to  put  his  spectacles  astride  his  nose,  and 
while  his  hand  trembled  with  eagerness,  applied  the  United 


122  TIIE  VOLILNTEEK. 

States  key  to  the  rusty  old  lock.  With  a  grating  jar  it  opened, 
and  then  the  mail,  consisting  of  about  twenty  letters  and  as 
many  papers,  was  exposed  to  view. 

The  lirst  letter  which  "  turned  up,"  was  addressed  to  the 
postmaster;  but  with  commendable  patience  the  old  gentleman 
put  it  aside,  and  commenced  assorting  the  others. 

"  Here's  one  for  you,  Mr.  Maple,"  said  he  to  a  gray-haired, 
ruddy-complexioned  man,  who  appeared  to  be  about  his  own 
age.  "  I  reckon  it's  from  your  boy." 

The  eyes  of  the  old  man  glistened,  and  his  hand  trembled,  as 
he  took  the  letter;  and  glancing  at  the  superscription,  he  cried: 

"  Yes,  it  is  from  our  Dan ;  I  know  his  hand-writing  as  well  us 
I  do  a  furrow  of  my  own  ploughmV  And  then  breaking  the 
seal,  he  looked  for  a  moment  at  its  contents. 

Each  second  thus  spent  seemed  an  age  to  those  around  him — 
for  they  wanted  to  hear  the  news.  Meantime  they,  too,  were 
receiving  letters  from  their  relatives ;  but  old  Mr.  Maple  had 
the  start  of  at  least  a  miuute  in  breaking  seals.  Suddenly  he 
threw  his  hat  from  his  head,  gave  a  yell  which  might  have  been 
heard  a  mile  as  it  echoed  through  those  "  grand  old  woods," 
and  commenced  clapping  his  hands  as  if  the  spirit  of  a  real 
backwoods  camp  meeting  had  lighted  on  him. 

"  What  in  cre-ation  &  the  matter  now  ?"  cried  out  a  half- 
dozen  of  the  party. 

"  The  boys  are  a  comin'  home — they'll  be  here  by  to-morrow ! 
Hurrah,  hurrah !"  shouted  the  old  man. 

But  his  stentorian  voice  was  drowned  in  the  shout  that  arose 
from  every  throat  in  the  crowd  except  that  of  the  worthy  old 
postmaster,  who,  acting  upon  the  principle  of  "  business  before 
pleasure,"  still  knelt  by  the  side  of  his  letter-bag  and  assorted 
out  its  contents,  preparing  it  for  the  next  office,  which  was 
some  ten  miles  further  along. 

The  huzzas  of  the  crowd  continued,  as  letter  after  letter,  to 
different  persons  among  them,  told  the  same  glad  news.  At 
last  the  mail  was  arranged,  the  old  bag  again  locked,  and  the 
rider,  placing  it  upon  his  nag,  mounted  and  rode  off — his  speed 
considerably  accelerated  now,  for  he  knew  that  he  had  good 
news  under  him,  and  he  felt  quite  like  a  hero. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  read  my  news  now,  for  I've  a  letter  from 
the  captain,"  said  Uncle  Ned.  He  had  always  laid  a  stress 
upon  that  word  captain  ever  since  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista, 


THE    VOLUNTEER.  123 

for,  as  every  one  said,  his  son  had  turned  out  to  be  a  regular 
captain  there. 

The  old  gentleman  therefore  took  off  his  spectacles,  and  pre 
pared,  by  thoroughly  wiping  them,  to  read  his  letter.  But  at 
this  moment  a  shrill,  but  not  unmusical  voice  from  the  dwelling- 
house  porch  was  heard. 

"  Mr.  Blakey — O,  Mr.  Blakey,  do  come  here  a  minute !  What 
ar  the  men  folks  a  hollerin'  so  for  ?  Has  there  been  another 
fight?" 

"  Got  a  letter,  wife — got  a  letter  from  George !"  responded 
the  old  man,  waving  the  precious  missive  in  the  air. 

"  Do  come  here  quick.  Do  come  right  along,  for  I  can't 
wait!  How  is  the  dear  boy?"  cried  the  old  lady,  with  true 
woman-like  impatience. 

"  I  must  go,  but  just  you  all  hold  on  here  till  I  come  back," 
cried  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  want  to  see  you  about  fixing 
up  things  for  giving  'em  all  a  regular  blow-out,  when  they 
come !" 

And  the  old  gentleman  hurried  toward  his  house ;  but  when 
he  had  taken  three  or  four  steps,  a  sudden  thought  seemed  to 
cross  his  mind,  for  he  turned  round  to  the  group  and  cried: 

"  There's  a  keg  of  old  rye  broached  there,  boys,  in  the  back 
end  of  the  store,  if  any  of  you  want  a  dig — all's  free  to-night. 
Hurrah  for  the  boys !" 

And  then  came  one  more  cheer  from  the  party,  who  soon 
took  to  the  rye,  without  a  wry  face  among  them,  to  drink  one 
health  to  the  Logan  county  boys. 

When  Uncle  Ned  got  to  the  side  of  his  wife,  he  waited  not  to 
wipe  his  spectacles,  but  hastily  tore  open  the  seal  and  com 
menced  reading  to  himself,  his  good  lady  looking  over  his 
shoulder  as  if  she  could  read  it  too — though,  as  she  was  with 
out  her  glasses,  she  could  scarcely  make  one  line  out  from 
another. 

"  Do  tell  us — do  tell  us  what  he  says !  Is  he  coming  home — 
has  he  got  his  wife — is  he  well — when  will  he  come — what  is 
the  news  ?  Do  tell  I"  cried  Mrs.  Blakey,  or  Aunt  Letty,  as  we 
have  called  her,  in  a  tone  far  too  rapid  for  a  response  to  be 
given  between  the  questions. 

"Hurrah,  hurrah!"  shouted  Uncle  Ned,  in  response;  and 
then  he  added :  "  George  is  a  comin'  here  to-morrow — young 
wife — all  right — God  bless  him !" 

His  tone  and  language  conveyed  only  the  general  idea  that 


1JI  T1IE    VOLUNTEER. 

he  had  good  news,  and  his  cheer  was  again  echoed  from  the 
crowd  at  the  store. 

Having  again  read  his  letter  carefully,  Uncle  Ned  now  gave 
Aunt  Letty  the  joyful  information  that  George  and  his  com- 
pnny  were  coming  home,  and  that  George  was  indeed  bringing 
home  a  wife. 

"A  real  Mexican  gal  ?"  asked  Aunt  Letty. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  so,  from  her  name  and  what  he  says  about 
her.  But  we'll  see  when  to-morrow  comes." 

"  O,  dear,  what  shall  we  do  to  get  ready  in  time  for  'em  ?  I 
must  go  to  baking  cakes  to-night,  and  then  the  back  room  must 
be  cleaned.  O,  my !  how  can  we  get  ready  for  'em  so  soon  ?" 
cried  the  old  lady. 

"  We're  ready  for  'em  now,  Letty — rough  and  ready,  eh  ?" 
And  the  old  man  laughed  at  this  ready  jest,  and  then  he 
added :  "  You  may  look  out  for  the  indoor  fixins' — I'll  go  and 
see  the  men  folks.  We  must  have  a  regular  Fourth  of  July  time 
of  it,  when  they  come!" 

In  a  few  moments  a  regular  caucus  was  held  in  the  store,  for 
it'waa  now  dark,  to  arrange  for  the  reception  of  the  volunteers 
in  the  morning. 

"Ill  send  a  whole  beef  for  the  barbacue!"  cried  old  Mr. 
Maple. 

"And  I  a  hog,  and  I  a  dozen  turkeys  I"  cried  others  of  the 
party ;  and  soon  a  collection  was  made  for  a  regular  western 
feast. 

"  III  throw  in  the  drink,  and  all  the  bread  fixins'  and  chicken 
doins' !"  cried  Uncle  Ned ;  and  when  the  capacities  for  swallow 
ing  "  rye,"  so  common  to  those  hardy  woodsmen,  is  considered, 
Uncle  Ned  had  undertaken  the  most  expensive  supply  of  all. 

"Mustn't  we  have  a  speech  made  to  'em?"  squeaked  a  lean, 
long-visaged,  no-souled  looking  fellow,  who  had  been  taken 
suddenly  sick  when  the  company  was  raised  for  the  war,  and 
who,  under  pretence  of  having  been  to  a  city  and  looked  at  a 
college,  passed  for  a  scholar,  in  his  own  opinion,  and  who  now 
thought  that  he  had  a  chance  for  glory. 

"  No,  we  don't  want  none  o'  your  speeches,  John  Martin !" 
said  old  Mr.  Maple.  "  I've  an  idea  that  you  might  get  sick 
again,  if  you  was  to  try  it." 

"  Well,  I  only  thought  I'd  offer  my  services,"  whined  the 
fellow. 

"  You  didn't  think  of  offerin'  your  '  services,'  when  the  boys 


THE   VOLU.STEEH.  125 

made  up  to  go  to  the  war,  and  it's  my  'pinion  that  you're  a 
regular  sneak,  a  tarnal  pole  cat  of  a  varmint,  John  Martin— a 
thing  that  nobody  can  touch  without  hurting  themselves;  and 
the  sooner  you  get  out  of  decent  people's  company,  the  better 
for  them  and  you  too !"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  appearing 
rather  angry. 

The  fellow  winced,  as  he  listened  to  the  not  very  choice  ap 
pellations  showered  upon  him  by  Mr.  Maple,  and  began  slowly 
to  back  from  the  crowd,  muttering,  as  he  went : 

"  If  this  isn't  pretty  treatment  for  John  Junius  Martin,  Es 
quire,  a  born  gentleman,  to  receive  at  the  hands  of  a  backwoods 
boor!" 

Unfortunately  for  Mr.  Martin,  the  old  man  heard  his  last 
words;  slightly  misunderstanding  them,  however,  for  he 
shouted : 

"  What's  that  you  call  me,  you  slanderin',  white-livered,  lyin' 
nigger's  pup,  you  ?  Me  a  backwoods  boar,  eh  ?  If  Dan  Maple 
was  here,  he'd  skin  you  worse  than  he  did  when  you  lied  about 
his  Mary,  because  she  wouldn't  let  you  court  her !" 

Then  crying  to  those  who  stood  between  them,  "  Get  clear  o' 
ray  track,  and  let  me  get  my  paws  on  to  that  cur,  and  I'll  show 
him  if  I  be  a  backwoods  boar  or  not!"  old  Mr.  Maple  made  a 
rush  as  he  thus  shouted,  but  Mr.  Martin  was  taken  sick  again, 
and  very  suddenly  decamped. 

The  confusion  attendant  upon  this  little  interruption  having 
passed  away,  the  neighbors  made  all  their  arrangements  for 
receiving  George  and  his  company  at  noon  the  next  day,  when 
they  were  expected  to  arrive.  There  was  little  sleeping  that 
night  at  Rural  Choice,  or  in  its  neighborhood. 

Ever  and  anon  the  majestic  old  woods  would  echo  with  the 
shout  of  some  joyful  heart,  really  too  full  of  joy  to  repress  the 
voice ;  and  many  a  messenger  rode  along  the  narrow  trails  to 
bear  the  news  to  all  around  that  a  barbacue  was  to  be  had  at 
Uncle  Ned  Blakey's  on  the  morrow,  and  that  the  boys  would 
then  be  home  from  the  wars. 

The  sun  had  scarcely  silvered  the  dewy  forest  leaves  on  the 
next  morning,  when  the  people  began  to  pour  in — and  it  was  a 
glorious  sight  to  see  them.  Old  men  and  women,  young  girls, 
fair  matrons,  and  bright-eyed  children — sometimes  two  or  three 
on  a  horse — they  came,  until  full  a  thousand  souls  encircled  the 
spring  which  we  alluded  to  in  our  first  chapter,  as  being  the 
favorite  barbacue  ground. 


120  THE   VOLUNTEER. 

At  last  when  the  tall  trees,  leaving  no  shadow  on  the  ground, 
crave  sign  that  the  sun  was  at  its  meridian,  the  cheerful  note  of 
a  bugle  was  heard  ringing  loud  and  clear  from  down  the  road 
which  had  before  been  passed  by  the  mail-rider.  Then,  as  in  a 
moment  after  the  head  of  a  galloping  cavalcade  could  be  seen 
approaching,  and  George  Blakey's  noble  form  could  be  recog 
nized,  with  a  lady  riding,  too,  at  full  speed  by  his  side,  there 
arose  such  a  shout  as  never  did  those  old  trees  echo  before. 

Then  came  a  weaker,  yet  still  a  gladder  shout  from  the  lips 
of  Blakey  and  his  followers,  who  the  next  moment  were  among 
them  with  their  dark,  sun-bronzed  faces — seamed,  too,  with 
many  a  scar.  There  were  not  so  many  as  when  they  left— no, 
Buena  Vista  had  sadly  thinned  them  down ! — nor  were  they  as 
well  clad ;  but  they  had  served  their  country,  and  each  of  them 
was  now  a  hero. 

We  need  not,  cannot  describe  the  joys  of  meeting,  or  the 
various  ways  in  which  those  rude,  pure,  whole-hearted  people 
expressed  it.  All  of  this  we  will  leave  to  the  imaginations  of 
our  readers,  who,  should  any  of  them  pass  through  Logan 
county,  must  call  at  Rural  Choice,  and  see  how  happy  the  MAID 
OF  MONTEREY  is. 


THE  END. 


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